Heartsick
by misshoneywell
Summary: "We were complicated and messy, a strange mix of pain and pleasure." Mature themes. Very AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Rated M **for language, drug use and sexual content. Lemons in the chapters to come. Buckle up, this story is going to get pretty explicit and a little dark**. Fair warning. **

Nothing is mine.

_We all have our pleasures, and mine is the pain of others._

_-Judah_

A long, black specter slunk through the meager city limits, rolling callously by the sidewalks we had walked as children. It sloughed a temperate October wind onto the old men of Gardenia Street who waited patiently for a morning shave, hats in hand, their frail bodies nodding and swaying in respect to the hometown girl encased inside the wheeled metal walls of the automobile.

I watched with grim determination as the scenery sped by the tinted windows, eyes wide open but glassy, with a pain like broken glass threatening to blaze a liquid trail down my cheek. We passed landmark after landmark, all made horrible in their loveliness now, having been touched by the hands of Twelve Acre's golden girl.

The county library passed in a blur as small, balloon-toting children waved sadly from its steps, and The Dairy Bar, with its dapper red and white awnings, winked grotesquely in remembrance of icy milkshakes and cream spilt upon waxed, glossy floors. The Crestview Country Club would host no members today, its exclusive gates shut firmly into an angry grimace towards the sleek, deathly intruder rolling past.

I peered back at all of them, unseen through the tinted glass, my hand curved like a bell onto the chilled window, knowing well that it was not me that they called for. It was Primrose Mellark.

It was always about Primrose Mellark.

We buried her late on a Tuesday afternoon, the southern sky a vivid pink, the sun shining unseasonably and eliciting a terribly beautiful contrast to the hearse-cast shadows that fell down onto the cobblestones of the quaintest of streets that made up our nook of Twelve Acre, Virginia.

It was a street that Prim and I had walked hundreds, thousands, maybe a million times, always knowing that "one day" it would lead us to our final resting place, but never imagining how soon one of us would travel it down to the damp, soiled depths of Kalmia Garden Cemetery as we skipped unknowingly across the graves of her ancestors.

"It's time," said Peeta Mellark, his words registering before the realization that the limo had stopped. "Stay close," came his cryptic aside before sliding out of the car with sinewy grace, leaving me behind.

I did what I always had and followed him numbly out of the car, tripping after him and watching as my impractical heels left indentations in wake of his long, sure strides. I caught up to him and stumbled.

Peeta's hand, inexplicably cool on a warmish day, caught my elbow and righted me against him. I leaned into his grasp, a common, familiar movement that was practically a habit since childhood.

I looked up and caught the eye of Delly Cartwright before I was pulled down into a velvet covered lawn chair, her scowl standing out starkly amongst a sea of grief-stricken faces.

It was nothing new. Peeta Mellark was eighteen and _it_, in terms of this town. He was what his father's father was, and _his_ grandfather's father, and so on, _amen_. He was a pillar of the community in this sleepy little Washington, DC suburb, someone to look up to, envy, desire, love and hate all rolled into one. And with his hand wrapped tightly around _my_ elbow and pulling me down into the seat next to his, scrunched tightly between him and his mother, awkward yet comfortable, I was an easy target against all of those who wished to move in the right social groups and crawl tight-fisted up all the prosperous, elusive ladders that this small but affluent Virginian town had to offer.

It made me sick that even on a day like this, social machinations were still on and running with a vengeance. _Fine_. I turned and sneered at Delly, and made a show of wrapping my fingers around Peeta's in a tight grip. I could play, too.

He stared down at our interlocked hands in surprise before looking deeply into my eyes. "Are you stoned?" he questioned sternly, and I blanched. "Because this is not the time for your immature antics, Katniss," he continued in low tones. "In case you have forgotten, my twin sister is being put in the ground today."

I moved to jerk my hand out of his, but his sudden grip made it an impossible feat. "Are you fucking crazy?" I hissed back, very aware of Talia Mellark sitting one inch to my right, sobbing into her Chanel handkerchief while leaning bonelessly into her husband, Senator Peter "Van" Mellark IV, who was busy staring stoically down at the tarp covered ground. Or possibly his smart phone. "And when would I have been able to pull that one off? You've had your eagle eye on me all day."

He smiled wryly and released my hand with a push that only I could detect. "Don't worry. After this…_inconvenience _is put behind you, I'll be more than happy to _hold your hand_ while you get high. I know you're dying to do so."

I scoffed and he narrowed his eyes in agitated warning at my small outburst. "My form of medication is no more scandalous than yours, _Peet_." He scowled at my childhood nickname for him. "I'm sure you'll have your head under the first black dress that cries itself over to you tonight."

He eyed me thoughtfully for a moment, no longer rising to my taunts. "Just try not to embarrass my family today."

"Fuck you, Peeta."

"Gladly. Now shut your mouth, the show's about to start," he murmured flatly.

I sat back with resigned, futile irritation and watched Peeta for social cues. He took off his sunglasses, and I followed suit, cringing into the bright sunlight that burned into my eyes. He wordlessly took my sunglasses out of my hand and slipped them into a discreet pocket lining his suit jacket.

I shook my hair out and allowed the sun drenched, darkened strands to fall messily into my vision, glad I hadn't braided it that morning. It was a welcome block against both the critical stares around me and the bright, almost heatless rays beaming down from the sky. It was as if even the sun had lost its way today.

I suddenly yearned to be out in the woods, high in a tree somewhere, and very far away from this bullshit circus. I even felt blinded by the white blonde glints in Talia's hair, dyed to hide the fact that she wasn't a natural blonde like her husband and children. Everything around me just seemed bright and shiny and _fake, _making me shaky and off-kilter.

We both turned and faced Pastor Duncan as he started to speak about how wonderful, beautiful and _holy, holy, holy_ Primrose Mellark had been before her tragic demise. I wanted to smirk mockingly at his words, roll my eyes and share secret, knowing smiles with Peeta, but instead, I felt my stiff upper lip trembling.

I bit my cheek, hard, and wished for a cigarette, a blunt, anything to make the sadness go away. I didn't care if it made me the trash that Peeta had often accused me of emulating. I hadn't been to a funeral since the one held for my father years ago, and I was starting to feel sick and claustrophobic. I needed an outlet, badly.

Peeta still stared straight ahead, but I felt his hand slip into mine, gentler with my fingers than he was before. I clung to him desperately.

Pastor Duncan was still singing Prim's praises, "…she was a sweet, honorable girl from the very time that she could walk. Why, I remember the day that she found and returned the oldest known relic that exists in Twelve Acre..."

My eyes widened slightly. _No. Not that story. My_ lips twitched. _No!_

"…the cross had been missing from the lawn of Central Methodist for over a week when Ms. Mellark dragged it from…"

And, to my horror, I burst into laughter. The loudest, most inappropriate laughter of my life.

I felt more than I saw Peeta's incredulous stare in my direction. I tried to stop but I couldn't. It was a cacophonous duet between Peeta's mother and I, and I honestly couldn't tell who was louder between my hysterical laughter and her hysterical tears.

Was I having a mental breakdown? I stood up and took off like a shot across the lawn, somehow, miraculously, not falling into the soft mulch-like grass and soil that made up Kalmia Garden.

In the distance, I vaguely registered a police officer deep in conversation with Haymitch Abernathy, the Mellark's long-time driver and general go-to man. He was currently scowling at me over the officer's shoulder, one foot moving forward hesitantly, but I ignored him. I was too far gone to give a damn.

I ran past the line of cars , dove into the back of the limousine and collapsed into myself, digging frantically through my purse for a cigarette, but praying for even a small piece of a roach to surface inside the hopelessly small Dolce and Gabbana clutch that was now permanently on loan from Prim. I thanked the Lord above as my fingers found purchase at the grainy bottom of the bag.

My eyes zeroed in on a half-full decanter of mystery alcohol in the limousine sidebar, and I drank from it without question or compunction. Maybe I should have invited Haymitch to join me. He, more than anyone, appreciated a good bottle of spirits.

I was still giggling as I lit the half smoked blunt roach and lifted it to my lips. I was hysterical and I could not stop if someone had put a gun to my head and demanded for it to end. I just wanted to forget about the scene I had caused in front of basically the entire town.

I pulled a few more times, exhaling and not caring that I was filling the limo with the unmistakable smell of pot when a police officer was in the nearby vicinity. I was desperate for the mind-numbing THC rush.

The cop was probably on the Mellark pay roll, anyway. I suspected almost all of them were. It wasn't a comforting thought.

I stubbed out the roach in the never-before-used limousine ashtray and took another sip of the alcohol. I leaned back against the leather interior and let out one more relieved cackle before I promptly shocked myself by bursting into tears.

I didn't bother to look over as the limousine door opened and the smell of Clive Christian No.1 drifted into my nostrils. There was only one person in this town with the bank account to afford such expensive cologne and the balls to follow me into the limo.

"You are an absolute wreck, Katniss Everdeen," Peeta muttered grimly as he slid in beside me, his tone a startling contrast to his surprisingly gentle hand against my face. And then, he held my hair as I promptly puked on his shoes.

"And you, sir, are a scholar and a gentleman," I slurred nonsensically. He stared down at the floorboard and his ruined Italian leather shoes, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I swear," he started and then stopped with a martyred sigh. "Let's just get the hell out of here. It smells goddamn rancid in this limo. Can you make it if we walk home?" I paused in silence, as while it was only a few blocks from the cemetery, at the moment it seemed like light-years away. My stomach felt like it was coated in battery acid and my head was floating away. I felt like a fucking failure.

We slid out of the limo, for once without argument. I was just ready to collapse into a bed and take a 100 year nap. I didn't look to my left for fear of making eye contact with all of those judging stares that were sure to be looking our way. Haymitch and the officer seemed to have disappeared. Thank you, Haymitch.

No sooner had we exited the limo did a large shadow block our way. I raised my eyes to meet the gaze of our unusually solemn-faced classmate, Threshton "Thresh" Tanner, who was built like a Redwood but had the insides of a fresh, gooey marshmallow. I smiled up at him half-heartedly, because it's impossible _not_ to smile at Thresh Tanner.

"Thresh," Peeta nodded impassively and stuck out his hand, more like his politician father than an eighteen year old senior in high school. "Thanks for coming."

"Dude," the lacrosse player rumbled down at Peeta's hand with a frown, his dark eyes blinking back tears. "Always so serious. Gimme a hug, man. I miss your sister like crazy."

Peeta looked so much at a loss, I decided to take pity on him for his previous heroic actions and stumbled into the hug. I wrapped my arms around Thresh and he lifted me off the ground with the force of his embrace. I instantly felt like I was going to throw up again.

"Katniss, why do you smell like pot and puke?" Thresh asked in kindly confusion, oblivious to the scene I had just caused across the lawn.

"Never mind that," Peeta cut in as if talking to a small child, pulling me away from the huge boy. "We have to get going now, Thresh. We'll see you tonight at the reception?" he phrased it as more of a sentence than a question, effectively dismissing him, but Thresh nodded enthusiastically anyway as we turned away.

I stopped to sway on my feet, and caught myself on a nearby magnolia tree so as not to go down. Even from across the lawn, I could tell the eyes of every funeral guest were currently on Peeta and me, and even in my altered state I had no desire to give anyone the satisfaction of watching me make any more of a fool of myself than I already had.

Of course, it probably didn't help much when Peeta scooped me into his arms like a swooning bride and marched us through the centuries old archway leading onto the oak lined street that would lead us to Mellark Manor. I felt safe with his arms under my shoulders and knees.

"'Remember when me and Prim skipped school and I fell out of that that tree on Poplar Avenue?" I mumbled softly. Silence. "I broke my foot. You carried me all the way home, even though you wouldn't cut with us and went to school that day. Prim ran all the way to your class and practically pulled you out the window." He grunted in reply.

Peeta had always taken care of me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into his neck, feeling my eyes fighting the effort of staying open. "For everything."

"It's alright."

"But I embarrassed you."

I felt him smile. "Prim would have loved it."

"I really fucking love you, Peeta," I murmured sleepily.

The hand on my shoulder tightened. "I know."

**-x-**

**Just to warn you again:** There will be mentions of some squicky things in later chapters. Explicit sex, dubious consent, drug use, the whole gamut is up for grabs, really. This is not the canon Katniss and Peeta that you know and love from the books. However, this _is_ very much a Katniss and Peeta love story, so if you can keep that in mind, you'll be good to go.

Review if you'd like a chapter two preview. Have a good day!


	2. Chapter 2

It was already dark outside when I emerged from my sleep coma, the relentless chirping of my cell phone finally rousing me. I didn't have to look to know that it was Peeta, demanding that I come downstairs. I was comfy and warm, tucked tightly under the soft downy cashmere comforter of his bed. I'd know that beyond luxury mattress anywhere, and the lingering scent of Peeta's cologne was still clinging to the Eiderdown pillow cradling my screaming my head. I looked over and saw two painkillers and a bottle of Evian waiting for me on his nightstand.

Peeta may act like a privileged bastard, but he was _my _bastard. From the outside looking in, we probably looked like we despised each other at times— sometimes _I_ was pretty sure we despised each other—but bottom line, we had each other's backs.

We were complicated and messy, a strange mix of pain and pleasure. There were times when I felt like his concubine, but some days, he was my slave. Push and pull, give and take, we were the masters of forcing each other to our absolute limit. We couldn't be more different, but when I was with Peeta, I felt home and safe. I had other friends, but there was no one closer to me, who understood me better, other than Prim of course…

My heart clenched. Basically, there was no one else closer to me.

I reached up to rub my eyes, swollen from crying and drinking and smoking. Peeta was right. I was a complete wreck. No way could I go downstairs for the reception looking like this. Talia Mellark would flay me with her pink and white manicure. The Senator wouldn't notice.

I jumped from Peeta's super high bed in a practiced motion, ignoring the pretentious little step stool as I always did. Only this time, the exhaustion and the drugs and the booze intervened and I ended up on the floor in a lump.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered to myself, rubbing my sore knee. I would have a huge bruise there, I knew. I bruised so easily, it was ridiculous. At least my pantyhose would hide it- _oh shit._ _Way to be ladylike, Everdeen._ I had a massive rip along the back of the hose, which is basically what I get for buying on the cheap at Walgreens. I could just imagine Talia's disapproving stare now.

"Fuck it," I whispered, stepping out the hosiery as I walked towards Peeta's bathroom. I opened the door and padded over the marbled tile path that lead to his shower, throwing my dress and underwear to the floor as I approached the space that I had coveted for years. The rainfall shower head was pure heaven, set at a scalding temperature that Prim had always informed me that normal humans shouldn't be able to tolerate. Peeta had learned to suffer through the heat with me, though he would curse for a smooth thirty seconds before finally adjusting to the setting.

_You two will do well in hell when we die, _Prim used to muse from the bed as Peeta and I would stumble from the bathroom, pink-skinned and often arguing. _Me, not so much_. I bit my lip hard at the morbid memory and stifled a cry. I focused on cleaning my body instead.

I pumped a large handful of his extra expensive shampoo into my palm, finishing off what was left of the bottle. I put the empty container back in it's place anyway, knowing full well it would drive Peeta crazy later when he reached for it during his nightly shower.

Using a healthy dose of his body wash for good measure, I consulted the waterproof digital clock embedded in the shower wall, cursing when I realized just how long I'd been upstairs. I had managed to sleep and shower my way through most of the funeral reception.

I rushed through the rest of my cleansing ritual, hastily French braiding my wet hair into my customary style and throwing on the black dress again, not bothering with the torn pantyhose, or underwear for that matter. I briefly considered raiding Prim's room but the thought of it…it made me choke.

In the end, I didn't even bother putting on shoes as I padded my way through the silent darkness of the third floor, maneuvering my way downstairs to enter the pandemonium of the bottom level of Mellark Manor. I walked down the main entrance hall and ignored all the ostentatiously dressed adults that gave me the eye. Among the black lace and diamond showcase in front of me, I'm sure I looked like something else entirely—stocking-less and shoeless, with a wet braid tossed over my shoulder. I could practically see a thought bubble over their heads that said "Seam Avenue trash" trailed by giant exclamation points.

Of course, no one would say that out loud or in polite company. I was too near and dear to the Mellark's, the most powerful family in town, and whatever they saw in me—well, everyone else would have to swallow it, too. I saw Effie Trinket, Talia's personal assistant, shaking her head at me in despair as she took in my appearance, but she was trapped in a conversation with a local car dealership owner.

"Finally decided to join the hoi polloi?" a voice hovered at my right ear as soon as I ducked into the main drawing room, the source of the most activity and where I knew I'd likely find Peeta playing gracious host with his parents. Instead, I turned around and met the devilish green eyes of Finnick Odair. He held his arms out for a hug, which I gladly gave.

"Against my better judgment," I sighed, pulling away. "I just feel like self-medicating, curling back up into bed and not waking up again for a month," I added with a scowl. He nodded back in understanding, his normally radiant smile sad as he ran a hand through his bronze hair.

There was no need for pretense with Finnick. He grew up down the street from the Mellark's, and their families had always been close. Because I practically grew up in this house myself, Finnick had always been like a brother to all three of us. He was two years older and attended a university in DC, but we still saw him often. "I kept getting nasty text messages from Peeta, though. He wouldn't let me sleep."

Finnick raised an eyebrow at me.

"Not like that, pervert," I sniffed, rolling my eyes.

His chartreuse eyes twinkled at me with full force. A normal girl would have dropped her panties at the sight, if she was wearing any, of course. "You two certainly made quite the scene earlier," he smiled behind a diamond cut crystal highball glass that was filled with what looked suspiciously like the Senator's good Scotch.

"What can I say? I had a moment," I said sharply, still sensitive about my actions earlier. I was constantly proving to everyone that I was an aberration walking among the well-bred Mellark brood. "I would have gotten over it. Peeta just had to swoop in and play white knight, making me look even more like a total basket case than usual." I was lying out my ass, and we both knew it.

Finnick's eyes zeroed in on something past my head. "Speaking of your boy," he raised his glass towards the back of the room.

I watched from afar as Delly Cartwright sat across from Peeta in a matching wingback chair, her hand clutching his knee in what was supposed to pass as a comforting manner. _Her again_.

"Wow, it couldn't be more obvious that Delly's down to fuck than if she sent up smoke signals," I observed in disgust, surreptitiously snatching a glass of wine from one of the wait-staff as they passed by. I threw back the liquid quickly and sat the glass down on a nearby mahogany coffee table, sans coaster. A little fuck-you to Talia, you might say.

"Watch out now, Kat," Finnick mocked, thumping my nose playfully. "You almost sound jealous."

"Of _her_?" I bared my teeth and leaned into Finnick. "Not even close."

Delly Cartwright had been panting after Peeta since fourth grade, the year he and Prim had finally convinced their parents into letting them leave their fancy private school in DC. It had been a bad time for us Everdeen's. I had a vivid memory of sitting on the monkey bars at recess, extremely depressed because Cato Baxter had snatched my Snack Pack from my hand and ran away with it.

Not exactly an unforgivable offense for most, except that particular chocolate pudding would have been the first and only meal of the day for me in those lean times. Cato wouldn't have known that, the little shit, but I still remember the hunger pains from that day. Mom had to work overtime just to pay the bills and wasn't exactly remembering to pack a lunch box; my dad, God help him, was always out looking for any spare work after being laid off from the water treatment plant a town over from Twelve Acre. My parents were too proud to sign up for public assistance, so I wasn't getting the free lunch handout that other kids from my neighborhood were receiving, like Leevy Shaw and Stuart Tin.

"_Hey," I hear a voice calling me from below. "Girl!"_

_I scowl down through the monkey bars I am sitting on, a queen of the playground from this height. No one dared to mess with me when I was up here. "The name's not _girl_, lo-ser," I say, drawing out my words slowly._

_A boy with tousled blond curls and dreamy blue eyes stares up at me. His clothes are brand new and obviously expensive. He looks an awful lot like the boyfriend of one of those dolls that I always secretly wished that I got for Christmas, but never did, because they cost too much. _

"_I'm Peeta. Peeta Mellark," he introduces himself confidently, as if I were going to immediately drop to my knees and kiss his penny loafers. _

"_I don't care." This wasn't necessarily true. I was as curious about the new kids as anyone else, but would never admit it. I know exactly who he is, of course, and his twin sister Primrose—I knew of them long before they ever started coming to Twelve Acre Elementary. Senator Mellark was a big name in town, and although I was from Seam Avenue, I wasn't living under a rock. I often saw them riding their bikes during the summer when I would collect glass bottles from the richer streets of the town, and had even approached their house once, before I figured out what a witch Mrs. Mellark was. I saw the twin's matching blonde heads watching me from a third floor window as I was being promptly escorted off the property and into the street. I wonder if they remembered that._

"_You're rude," he says calmly, but doesn't go anywhere. _

"_Yeah, so?" I pick at a scab on my knee. My stomach rumbles again, and I feel miserable. My eyes seek out Cato Baxter in the distance, sitting with Delly Cartwright, Madge Undersee and David Marvel on the swings, offering an oblivious Madge a bite of my precious Snack Pack. They catch my eye and wave at me to come join them. Delly is too busy staring at Peeta, who is staring at me, and she's making a face a lot like how I must have looked when Cato stole my chocolate pudding._

_He scuffs his perfect new shoes against the playground dirt. "Are you always this mean when you're hungry?" Peeta asks seriously._

_I jump down like a jungle cat. "What do you know about it, rich boy?" I snarl, and punch him square in the eye._

_I hear gasps in the playground, but I'm oblivious. My chest heaves indignantly as I stare down at the boy who had the nerve to say something so private to me. I was mad and embarrassed and ashamed at being called out by someone who barely knew me._

_I look around to see my friends staring at me in shock. Cato's chocolate smeared mouth has practically hit the ground, and Madge looks like she wants to cry. Delly, the jerk, seems both horrified at my actions and a little pleased at my downfall. Well, I never liked her much anyway._

_I notice a blonde girl that looks a lot like Peeta standing by the slide with Glimmer Paladino, gazing at me with a genuine smile playing around her rosebud lips. She salutes me with a funny little twist of her fingers and then makes the universal 'call me' sign. Primrose Mellark might be fun, after all._

_I see the two teachers with playground duty running over our way, and I know I'm in trouble. Peeta pulls himself off the ground, and I feel a saran-wrapped parcel slip into my hand. _

"_Here," he whispers as we're dragged apart by the teachers. One coos and fusses over Peeta while the other sternly pulls me away by the arm. Peeta's eyes never leave mine as I'm dragged away to Principal Thread's office, my hand crushing the little package the blond boy slipped there._

_I don't look until after I'm thoroughly chastised by the principal and am sitting in the administration office, waiting on my exhausted mother to pick me up. It's a bit smashed, but otherwise perfect: a flaky little croissant, stuffed with some kind of creamy cheese and strips of thick bacon. I sneak a glance around me and devour it in two bites._

_I'm allowed back into school the next day, after Senator Mellark_ personally_ calls Principal Thread. I'm a smart enough fourth grader to understand who made the Senator phone in that request._

_ At recess the next day, I pull a black-eyed Peeta behind the school and kiss him square on the mouth._

_ "Now we're even," I say fiercely. It's my first kiss._

_ He smiles. "I'm going to marry you some day," he promises._

_ I promptly stomp on his foot and drag him back to the school yard, where Primrose is waiting for us with a knowing look. _

_ "I'm Prim." We eye each other as little girls do._

_ "Katniss."_

_ "You're coming home with us after school," she announces. And, I do._

_Prim giggles as she sees Delly Cartwright and Glimmer Paladino's sour faces when I climb into the black town car that picks up the twins at the school's curb. She makes a face at Madge Undersee's crestfallen look aimed in my direction. Prim kisses my check and holds my hand as I squeeze in between her and Peeta. I feel his fingers trail my other hand. _

"_Buckle up, sweetheart!" calls Haymitch Abernathy, their driver. Peeta pulls his seatbelt around the both of us._

_ "We like you best," she whispers close to my ear. _

_ I'm escorted into Mellark Manor. I can't help but look at the third floor windows._

_ We have a grand time ripping brand new Barbies out of their packages as Peeta rolls his eyes and sketches nearby. We take turns doing cannon balls off the diving board of their Olympic sized pool; I wear a bathing suit I borrow from Prim. My parents never call, and I fall asleep at Mellark Manor by accident. It won't be the last time._

_Their cook, Sae, serves us croissants stuffed with cheese and bacon for breakfast._

_ It's still my favorite sandwich._

"Katniss!" I heard the exclamation and turned as a gorgeous girl with long streams of brown hair flew at me. "Oomph," I huffed as the air was squeezed from my lungs. I swear, if it was any other female than Annie Cresta in my personal space like this, I would slap the hell out of them. "It's so good to see you," Annie whispered fiercely, kissing me on the cheek.

"You too," I patted her hair fondly; I was genuinely glad to see Finnick's college girlfriend. I had learned early on that Annie had no sense of personal boundaries, and had come to love her boundless energy. Not even a surly bitch like me can hate a pretty, harmless kitten like Annie Cresta.

She said something else to me, but I'm distracted as I see Delly reach over and stroke Peeta's hand. Okay. That was getting to be a bit much. Peeta's eyes find me in the way that they always seem to do when I'm in the room. We stared at each other for a moment. I vaguely heard Finnick mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "eyefucking." Annie giggled.

"I'll be back," I said abruptly, moving away from my friends as I strode with purpose towards the back of the room, knocking into a few tipsy, dramatically crying adults along the way.

He watched as I approached them, blatantly ignoring Delly in favor of looking me over cautiously.

"What are we talking about," I asked flippantly, throwing myself into Peeta's lap, careful to knock Delly's hand away with my foot. "Sorry," I smiled insincerely at her. Her pert little nose flared comically.

"Are you feeling better now, Katniss?" she asked with mock sweetness. "I mean, you seemed positively unstable earlier…"

"Oh, I'm _great_," I deadpanned, sitting back on Peeta's lap and pulling my legs up to snuggle against him.

Peeta grabbed my hose-less leg and pulled it upwards in a rather inappropriate way for a funeral reception. "You're bruised," he noted with a slight frown, analyzing the purpling area. Delly squirmed in irritation, no longer holding Peeta's attention. "I leave you to your own devices for a few hours, and you've already hurt yourself?" he asked incredulously.

"Wanna kiss it better?" I asked innocently. He rolled his eyes but pressed his lips to my knee obligingly. I lowered my leg and leaned back into him, deliberately tormenting the hell out of Delly. I could see Finnick and Annie trying to hide their smiles from across the room.

"You smell like me," Peeta murmured into my hair.

I shrugged. "You're out of shampoo," I said in a bored tone, mostly for Delly's benefit, staring down at the dishwater blonde as I spoke. I traced words on Peeta's knee, a private little game we've played since we were children, a game that had gotten considerably X-rated over the years.

**F.U.C.K M.E L.A.T.E.R** I spelled out slowly, barely listening as Delly attempted to flirt with Peeta again. He stilled.

**Y.E.S **he traced on the uncovered portion of my back, and I shivered.

Nope. Not jealous at all.

**-x-**

Your reviews, alerts and PM's are greatly appreciated, and also very encouraging. Lemons next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

The **M** rating comes into play here. Lemons. And, once again, this is a _**VERY AU** _story.

**-x-**

Delly flounced off shortly after I mindfucked her. Satisfied with my work, I left Peeta to his own devices—namely, to field off the sentimental condolences of some of our friends, much to his consternation. It was a dirty move, I knew, but I had plans for redemption that involved Peeta and his bed. I avoided eye contact with the people that made their way toward our direction, the well-meaning ones like Madge and Cato whom I knew would grab me into a sincere, tearful hug and force me to confront emotions that I'd rather forget.

Instead, I hustled across the room, grabbing Finnick and Annie by the elbows to sneak off to the garden patio. We lit one of the fat joints that I suspected one of them would have stashed away, laughing like naughty children before we realized that we were still entirely too sober to survive the night. We decided to take turns stealing glassfuls of alcohol from the Senator's top shelf liquor cabinet in his first floor office.

When it was my turn, I carefully avoided everyone who might stop our mindless activities. As I snuck down a darkened hall that was tucked off to the side of the drawing room, I saw a couple of people from school, but Madge and Cato must have already left. _Good_, I thought. Even though it had only been an hour or so, I missed Peeta and wanted him to spend time with us, despite knowing full well that he would never participate in our reindeer games. He was entirely too straight laced for that, and had always actively campaigned against mine and Prim's recreational drug use.

_We're not quite fourteen when we try pot for the first time._

"_Look what I have!" Prim slams open Peeta's door. We both look up, completely startled. I'm lying on his bed while he draws my profile, and I'm ready for a break anyway. _

"_What do you have?" I ask, sitting up in interest. Peeta looks far more skeptical and downright irritated at his twin for the interruption. He and Prim have been competing hard for my attention lately. I can't even count how many tense breakfasts I've had to sit through because one of them angrily wakes up to an empty bed, while the other has me in their arms._

_Lately, Peeta has been winning. Puberty is a bitch._

"_This," she smirks, shutting the door behind her and holding up something white. It's similar in shape to a cigarette. My mouth drops open._

"_Jesus, Prim," Peeta speaks first, slamming his sketchbook down on the bed. "Are you seriously holding marijuana right now? Where did you even get that?"_

_She shrugs and smiles slyly. "I have my sources."_

_Peeta and I exchange looks. There are times when neither one of us is exactly sure what Prim does or where she goes when she's not with us. She has taken her jealousy of my time with Peeta to the next level. She can barely stand to be in the same room with us when we're all hanging out together, and sometimes storms out of the room. I worry about it, because I honestly don't know what I would do if I had to choose between them. I don't even think it's possible._

"_So, let's do this," she says in determination, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. I haven't seen her this happy in a while._

"_Absolutely not," Peeta says flatly, standing up and walking towards her with his hand held out demandingly. "Give me that thing. We're going to flush it."_

"_Are you crazy?" Prim looks at her twin in outrage. "This will be an experience!"_

"_I'll tell mother," Peeta swears, a low blow. Talia and the Senator mostly leave us to our own devices, but something like this is big enough to affect them politically. I watch in horrified fascination as they stand-off against each other. This is going downhill fast. Prim looks like she might kill him._

_Her eyes harden. "I'll tell her that you and Katniss are in here humping at night," she counters with deadly intent._

"_Prim!" I exclaim, betrayed and embarrassed. She ignores me._

"_I'll do it. You know I will," she stares at Peeta. "I'll tell mother _and_ daddy that Katniss leaves my room every night to fuck you." I blanch. I may be from a seedy hole like the Seam, but it's not like sex and marijuana are a part of my everyday life. And how did I get dragged into this?_

"_We're not, though!' I object, feeling my face burn as Peeta looks over at me. Not that we haven't come somewhat close. Sleeping in the same bed with Peeta is nothing new –we've been doing it for awhile now- but when he started getting hard-ons, things changed between us significantly. "We've never done _that," _I finish lamely._

_I'll never forget the night when I woke up to Peeta grinding himself between my legs in his sleep. I was too tired and confused to pull away, and the motions started to feel good._

Really_ good_. _So good, in fact, that_ I_ had _that feeling_ for the first time ever__. _

_Prim and I had experimented with touching ourselves before, giggling and clueless, but I could never seem to make _it_ happen; that power that we had read about in romance novels, or the adult magazines that we found in Haymitch's cottage. My awkward fingers had never elicited the response that Peeta's sleepy, dry thrusts had. _

_So, I didn't pull away, and experienced my first orgasm with a boy that was too unconscious to realize it. He must have suspected something, though, because he woke up in a flurry of embarrassment the next morning, his boxers completely soaked. I wanted to make him feel better, and bravely spelled out _**M.E. T.O.O**_._ _on his hand, my head turned away as he stared at me in amazement._

_Ever since then, things had gotten considerably more Rated R in his bedroom at night. When the lights went off, hands went under the shirt, fingers inside the panties, a lazy kiss panted against my mouth. My mother would kill me if she knew; Seam Avenue girls were always getting pregnant long before it was socially acceptable. My father was long gone, beyond caring that his only daughter was well on her way to losing _it _with the Senator's son._

_But, obviously it was a mistake to tell Prim about all of that._

"_You wouldn't," Peeta says, but his voice lacks confidence. "They won't let Katniss come over anymore."_

_She stares at him silently, her chin in the air. My heart hurts at being bartered away so easily._

"_Fine," he explodes in disgust, storming towards the door. "I won't say anything, but you can smoke that disgusting thing yourself. Come on, Katniss." He pauses at the door handle and turns around. "Kat?"_

_Prim is smiling, happy to have gotten her way. "Katniss is going to try it, too. Aren't you, Kat?" She looks at me expectantly. _

_I hesitate. I sense that this is an important moment. _Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, _I think, a quote from a poem my daddy had loved before he had died last year in a car accident, tired and falling asleep at the wheel as he drove home from a trucking run._

_Peeta is looking incredulous, and Prim's eyes are calm. _

"_Go on," I say to Peeta, resigned. I have to give Prim something—payback for all the nights I've skipped out of her room to cuddle with her brother. This is the worst kind of balance, but I don't know what else to do. _

"_Fine," he spits out, his eyes pained. "You two are idiots." He disappears through the door, and instead of slamming it, he shuts it quietly behind him. Somehow, that's worse._

_So, that is how Prim and I light up our first fat joint, coughing and sputtering our way around it down in the rose garden, hiding behind a trellis. We finish it all, though, and are completely and utterly stoned for the first, but not last, time in our lives._

"_I wouldn't have really told daddy and mother that," Prim whispers in bed later, wrapping her fingers around mine. Peeta had refused to answer his door when I knocked on it earlier. "You know that, right, Katniss?"_

_My head lolls on her shoulder, incredibly sleepy and light. "Yeah, Prim. I know." _

"_It's okay that you like my brother," she says suddenly, waking me up from my dozing. "I want you to," she says in a strange voice. I mumbled something like _that's great_ but I'm so far gone it comes out in a garble. She says something else but I don't register it._

_Prim grabs my chin. "But do you still like me best?" She stares into my eyes with glassy intensity._

_I barely hear her. "Of course," I mutter sleepily, closing my eyes. I feel her mouth ghost against mine, but I think it might be a dream._

"_I really fucking love you, Katniss," she murmurs, and then I'm out like a light. _

I spotted Peeta when I emerged into the main drawing room again after my successful alcohol mission, but I hung back in the shadows of the hall that had led to the Senator's office. His back was turned to me, and he was deep in conversation with someone. _Ugh._ I didn't want to walk into the room and risk getting trapped into a drawn out conversation, but I also really wanted to kidnap Peeta. I was getting antsy without him.

I had just steeled myself to emerge into the crowd when Peeta moved slightly to the right, and I saw who he was speaking with so intensely.

It was Glimmer Paladino, of recess fame—yet another blonde bitch from school that I had known forever, yet absolutely fucking hated.

Not in the half-hearted "_you're really annoying and transparent but pathetically harmless_" manner that I despised Delly, but an "_I would just as soon stab you to death with a butter knife than look at you_" way.

I almost dropped my glassful of contraband Chivas Regal when Glimmer lifted a perfectly manicured hand to rest it on his broad shoulder. I silently willed Peeta to move away.

He didn't.

Goddammit, Peeta.

I promptly hauled ass, ready to get fucked up enough to forget about Peeta and the statuesque blonde for a while.

I returned to the patio and joined Finnick and Annie at our hiding spot behind the large ivy covered trellis that jutted out from the brick wall of the house. Prim and I had discovered it long ago during one of the many boring functions that the Mellark's hosted over the years, and often used it whenever we felt like escaping. It was a good place to tuck away if you didn't want to deal with anyone who might feel compelled to stumble outside for fresh air. So far, so good, tonight—I guess nobody wanted to miss out any action that might be going on inside the house. This town thrived on drama and gossip and "inclusion." Even at a funeral reception.

I stepped over Annie, who was lying in front of Finnick. I slid down the brick wall and folded my legs into a seated position, my back to the exterior of the house, the trellis directly to my left. I always sat with my back to the wall; anything else felt entirely too vulnerable.

I sat the glass of Chivas Regal down with a harsh clink against the patio tiles. "You want to pass that, or do you need to make love to it a little while longer?" I snapped at Finnick, who was currently in possession of the joint.

Finnick stared at me hard, mirroring my cross-legged seating position, deliberately pulling from the joint again. Annie was lying between us, already half-gone from the potent marijuana that Finn had bravely purchased from someone on Seam Avenue pretty much as soon as he had arrived back in town. "You were doing okay a few minutes ago," he pointed out, oddly logical for being tipsy and stoned. I shrugged and took a sip from our communal glass.

"So, what's eating your ass?" Finnick asked through a mouthful of smoke, finally offering the joint to me with a raised eyebrow. "Other than Peeta, of course." He snickered at his own joke.

I leveled a glare at him before softening slightly. I didn't want to be mad at him. Finnick was perfect; he just didn't know how close to the mark he was with his comments sometimes. "Shitty day, okay?" I muttered instead, going with the obvious excuse. I brought the joint to my lips but didn't inhale. I felt haunted and frozen. I felt like an asshole.

I didn't want, or even know _how_, to explain my feelings when I saw Peeta and Glimmer speaking intimately in the corner, her hand reaching up to lay claim to his broad shoulder. Prim would have understood straight away.

In a perfect, alternate universe, a fully alive Primrose Mellark would appear through the archway of the rose garden and let me cry into her shoulder, and I'd never have to verbally explain a thing. I suddenly felt like my heart was going to explode.

Annie raised her head slightly to exchange a sidelong look with Finnick. "I can _see_ you guys, you know," I scowled, covering my surging emotions well. Normally, I found their "in-sync-smug-couple" routine kind of adorable, but right now it was chafing at me uncomfortably.

Finnick rolled his eyes and snatched the joint back from fingers, clenching it firmly between his perfectly even teeth, the glowing end pointed backwards into his mouth. He grabbed my face and pulled me close, using his thumb to tug my mouth open. My eyes widened as he blew a long, steady stream of smoke into my lungs, and refused to let me pull away until I was at my limit. When he finally eased off, I was practically coughing up a lung.

But _damn,_ I was high.

"You needed that," Finnick shrugged unapologetically. "It's called a "shotgun," by the way," he explained in a scholarly tone.

"Thanks for that, Professor Odair," I sputtered out, my head feeling light. I thought I might be drooling a little, too. I was _so_ gone.

"I'm kind of turned on right now," Annie remarked dreamily, who had sat up to watch us in fascination. Finnick unfurled a smile in her direction, a look that promised _later, baby_. Meanwhile, I still sputtered away, not used to the "shotgun" method that Finnick had just introduced me to.

"You ain't smokin' if you ain't chokin'," he smirked at me, patting my head like I was an adorable little baby.

"Shit Finn, is that what they're teaching you in DC?" I coughed again, Annie thumping me on the back helpfully.

"Nah, Annie's best friend Johanna," he grinned, ruffling my hair again. Annie squeezed my shoulders. "You need to meet her sometime—I think you two will get along _famously_."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled half-heartedly, taking a sip of the scotch to wet my throat, which really did nothing to ease my aching trachea. "I don't need any more friends like you two assholes."

It was an indeterminate amount of hours later before I finally kissed them both a good night, promising that we'd have lunch the next day. I stumbled up a service staircase to Peeta's room.

Peeta was already waiting for me, but it couldn't have been for any extended amount of time because he was still dressed. He looked up from untying his double-knotted dress shoes as I _s_taggered into the room.

I brushed past him and walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth, a concession to Peeta's disgust with my smoking habit. I deliberately used his toothbrush, despite the fact that mine was sitting next to his in a stainless steel holder. He followed me into the bathroom and hovered over me as I brushed and spat into the sink. I made a face at him in the mirror as he tracked my every move, but didn't say anything to discourage him. Even though I was irritated, I craved Peeta's presence after being apart for a few hours, and he clearly felt the same way.

A shrink would probably call it "separation anxiety."

"You were awfully rude to Madge and Cato," he frowned in disapproval as I walked back into the room, Peeta still close at my heels, obviously still peeved that I had left him to play _gracious host_ by himself.

I gracelessly flopped down on his bed and shrugged carelessly. Peeta shook his head at me, stopping in front of his armoire and unbuckling his belt. I idly began flipping through the sketch book that he always kept inside his nightstand. He had added quite a few decent drawings of me since I'd last looked, though I noticed that I was in sleeping poses for most of them. And naked.

Creeper.

I put his sketchbook away, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "They'll get over it," I said. Cato and Madge were the most easygoing people in our circle of friends, and the hardest to offend. I honestly wasn't even sure why Madge came tonight, though. Prim had always been such a bitch to her; mostly, because of me.

In Prim's eyes, the other girl had always tried entirely too hard to be my friend, which set my best friend on edge. Prim had been nothing if not proprietary of my time, strangely unwilling to share with me anyone other than Peeta—and even that had been grudging at times.

Prim consistently expressed her paranoid theory that the daughter of the Mayor was trying to secretly steal me away from her. I tried on multiple occasions to explain that Madge was really just _that nice, _that we had been friends since before I had even officially met Prim, but she would turn her nose up at my explanations.

_I'm waiting on Prim to finish trying on yet another outfit at Chico's, an expensive boutique full of clothes that I could never personally afford, but sometimes received as gifts from the Mellark's. Prim absolutely insisted that she needed a new outfit for some reason or another, so I was dragged along as a reluctant wingman. I'm bored out of my mind and idly texting Peeta from Prim's far superior iPhone when I hear a familiar voice._

"_Hi Katniss!' Madge Undersee chirps brightly. "Hey Madge," I smile, looking up from my text battle with Peeta. "Nice dress," I motion to the yellow creation that she's carrying in her arms._

"_Thank you!" she positively beams at me. "It's for my dad's dinner tonight. Oh! You should come if you want," she adds almost shyly. Her dad is the mayor of Twelve Acre, and I struggle with a way to let her down gently due to the fact that I despise stuffy cocktail hours, especially the ones dealing with politics. I was forced into them at the Mellark's often enough, and I didn't relish spending a Saturday night at one willingly. Besides, Peeta had just sent me a particularly dirty text message and I was already mentally making plans with him._

_I'm saved by the door that bangs open in front of us, and Madge's face falls a little when Prim walks out of the dressing room, looking absolutely gorgeous in a black strapless dress that gathers just above her knees in a swirl of lace and sparkles._

"_Hello Prim," Madge falters at Prim's expression, my best friend looking back and forth suspiciously between myself and Madge. _

"_Hi," she says flatly, promptly ignoring her as she turns to me with a huge smile._

"_I'm so excited about tonight," Prim gushes as if Madge isn't standing two feet beside her. "We're going to have _so_ much fun, seriously, _everyone_ is coming!" I look at her in confusion. I have no idea what the hell she is talking about. I'm getting laid tonight._

"_Come on, we have to find your outfit now!" she trills, grabbing my hand and pulling me up and away from the dressing room. I bemusedly allow her to drag me off, and when I turn around to wave a helpless goodbye to Madge, I feel badly to see that she looks absolutely crushed. I belatedly realize that I was just party to a classic power move from the Mellark family playbook._

"Interesting little power play down there with Delly, though," Peeta remarked casually, staring at me in the armoire mirror as he expertly loosened the Windsor knot of his silk tie. "Downstairs, and then earlier at the graveyard…" he trailed off, clearly fishing. I didn't bite. "You are awfully showy today, Ms. Everdeen, and unusually public with our affections," he continued, affecting the bizarre Old Guard accent that the likes of Effie Trinket would adore.

"Maybe I'm just extra needy today," I said suggestively, sitting Indian-style on his comforter. I undid my braid, running my fingers through my hair.

He raised an eyebrow, shrugging off his suit jacket and slipping it neatly on a hanger. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous of that girl." _That girl_. The derivative would amuse me if it wasn't for that word again- _jealous_.

As if I was jealous of Delly Cartwright. I refused to let my mind wander to Glimmer _bitchface_ Paladino. Peeta didn't know that I had watched him interacting with Glimmer, and I wasn't about to play my hand right now. Also, I was just too mentally exhausted for the games we play.

"Get real," I snorted instead, lounging back on his bed in a most unladylike position, my arms thrown back and legs bent slightly at the knees into a classic "fuck me" position. Effie, who also served as the Mellark's etiquette advocate extraordinaire, would be outraged. She had been trying for years to turn me into a suitable companion for Primrose Mellark, and much to her eternal disappointment, it never happened. I guess now it was a moot point.

"Good thing you know better," I added, smiling cheekily to cover up the stab of sadness in my heart, widening my legs and then snapping them back together, watching as his eyes followed my movements in the mirror. No panties. I let my smile fall and sat up a little. "Could you take any longer, Mellark. You're like a damn girl."

I was itching for a release after the nightmare of a day we had both just experienced. I was irritated and heartsick, and no one understood what I needed like the boy in front of me. I craved his touch. I crawled towards the end of the bed as he approached me, sitting up on my knees to unbutton his starched white shirt, my fingers impatient.

"You're like a wild animal sometimes, you know that?" Peeta muttered as he shrugged out of his shirt, his hands coming up to rest on my shoulders as I moved down to his slacks, my fingers fumbling with the discreet button hidden inside the hem by expert tailoring, cursing as my fingers caught on the zipper next. _To hell with this expensive shit_.

"You love it," I said absently, jerking the fine fabric from his hips to reveal the silk briefs below. "You love that I can't get to your dick fast enough." I slipped into dirty talk mode, sensing that his mood was bordering on the somber side, that he wanted a conversation more than he wanted sex. He lost his twin sister, my best friend, and I know it's selfish, but goddamn it, I couldn't handle any more of it tonight.

I licked my lips and looked up to meet his stare. Peeta's eyes darkened and he suddenly pushed me back onto the bed. I scrambled towards the pillows. "Take off that dress," he demanded, shedding his briefs and stalking me onto the bed.

I obeyed him breathlessly. It never failed to turn me on, how commanding Peeta was in the bedroom. I'd bossed him around endlessly ever since we were children- but here and now, he was my king.

Peeta grabbed my legs and pulled me towards him, resting the backs of my knees on his shoulders. He thrust himself inside me with no foreplay, no warning, but it didn't matter, because I'd been wet for him ever since I sat in his lap earlier. I closed my eyes and bit my lip fiercely as he went deep with fast, measured strokes. _Yes_.

This is what I needed. This was my real medicine.

I let out a guttural sound as he pumped into me with a feverish pace. My mind was curiously blank as I surrendered to the beauty of our joined bodies. He mouthed his way down my chest and bit both of my breasts just hard enough to be not quite playful. I keened noisily.

"Tell me," he suddenly panted, using one hand to jerk my wrists together above my head while he balanced his weight on the other.

I looked up at him in hazy confusion, barely understanding his words. The feeling of his cock sliding in me, the head catching the hood of my clit as he pulled all the way out before slipping back in, was driving me absolutely out of my mind. He slowed his pace down to an agonizing tempo, and I groaned so loudly that I knew the whole house had to have heard me.

"Peeta_,_" I cried out, bucking my hips against him. I tried to lean up for a kiss, but he wouldn't allow it, pushing me against the bed firmly.

"Tell me you were jealous," he demanded again, coming to a stop completely, hovering above me and withholding that one thing that I needed _so_ desperately.

"_Please_…_"_

"Admit it," he whispered in my ear, taunting me by barely sliding the head of his dick between my lower lips.

I panted, warring with myself, knowing that I was about to lose a battle that I hadn't known I was engaged in until it was too late. I would regret the concession later, I know…but…

"I was jealous," I babbled, a traitor to my cunt. I thought of Glimmer, and the words spilled out of me like a bitter mantra. "I wanted to slap that whore, I wanted to cut off her fucking hand, no one comes near you but me, you belong to _me_ -"

Peeta let out a moan and fucked me in earnest then, hard strokes not meant to punish, but reward my honesty. "Katniss, oh god, you…fuck, you're _mine_. Do you understand that?" he gasped, completely losing the famous Mellark composure, the stoicism that the powerful men are known for.

My breasts bounced in time to his hard thrusts. My mouth was open in a silent scream as he kissed my neck sloppily. "I'll kill anyone else that touches you," he whispered as stared down at me, twitching his hips in a way that made me shriek.

He buried his face in my neck and grunted dirty, disgusting things in my ear, things that he only ever told _me_, things that made me see stars as I come. He followed me over the edge a minute later, collapsing on top of me with a long groan.

"Ugh, _off_." I wrinkled my nose and pushed his boneless weight away half-heartedly, but he only laughed and pulled me towards him as he fell to the side.

"Heartless," Peeta teased, tracing my cheekbone with his thumb. He kissed me softly, cupping my face and looking deep into my eyes in a way that he only does late at night, when we're truly alone. It never failed to unnerve me, how he saw right though me with that piercing blue gaze. I was afraid that I was being measured and weighed and coming up terribly short.

"What were you laughing at earlier," he asked suddenly, playing with the long dark strands of my hair. "At the cemetery."

"What?" I croaked out, my throat dry. He handed me the bottle of Evian that was still sitting on his nightstand from earlier that day. I took an extra-long time to take a sip, playing with the cap when I was done.

"Why do you ask?" I stalled, throwing the empty water bottle to the floor. I didn't want to talk about any of my secrets with Prim. I didn't want to confront my emotions anymore that day. I was already feeling a little bittersweet about the amazing sex we just had, Glimmer hanging over my head like a thundercloud in the distance.

"You and Primrose, ever an enigma," he said in a slightly accusing voice. This was a loaded statement, the implications heavy in his voice, and I wasn't going to touch it right now.

"Some would say the same about you and me," I countered carefully, nudging him with my shoulder. We had been getting along so well, almost like a normal couple— like we were _before._ I didn't want to jeopardize it.

I grabbed both his hands and kissed them softly at the knuckles.

He softened immediately. "You're all I have left, Katniss," he whispered into my ear. "Please, don't shut me out. Don't ever shut me out." I could hear tears in his voice.

"Peeta," I said in surprise, stunned at the vulnerability I saw in his eyes. He had been my rock for so long, and I could count on one hand how many times I had ever seen him break down.

I wrapped my arms around him, and he curled around my body, hugging my waist like a little boy. "Why did she do it, Kat," he asked into my chest, his voice cracking. "I'm her twin. I should have felt it, when she left me."

My heart thudded in my chest, and the sweat on my body was turning cold. I held him to me even closer, and didn't respond. I couldn't.

"You can't ever leave me," he commanded roughly, a prince even in his grief.

"I'll never leave you," I repeated, kissing his blonde curls. "You're mine, after all."

"I really fucking love you, Katniss," he murmured, drifting off to sleep.

My arms tightened around him. "I know."

We're definitely the most fucked up kids in Twelve Acre.

**-x-**

Thank you for your reviews, alerts and PMs. You're all awesome. I hope you enjoyed the lemons, because there are more where that came from. Also, I'm cross posting my fics at Archive of Our Own, should they be taken down for explicit content. My username is "misshoneywell" there, as well.

To address some of the concerned PM's I've received about _BfS_: I'm not abandoning _Blood from Stone_, and I definitely don't favor one story over the other. I happened to have quite a bit of this story already written long before I started _BfS,_ but I was always hesitant to post it. In conclusion, this story is in no way interfering with _BfS_ updates.

Reviews are love.


	4. Chapter 4

**M rating. Please take that seriously.**

Morning dawned, and with it, a level of sadness and depression that I had been putting at bay for the past week. It pulled and twisted me under a riptide of black emotion, and I was helpless to succumb to anything but the bitter grief that I had been warring with for days.

I refused to leave Peeta's bed. We had already decided that we weren't going to school the rest of the week —the arrangements were made by the Senator himself— so what was the point? I knew Peeta thought I was being ridiculous; he was ever the pragmatist. But, he stayed with me.

I huddled in a cocoon of luxury bed sheets and tried to shut out the world. I dozed in and out of a restless slumber, only waking every now and then at Peeta's insistence. I wouldn't answer my steadily buzzing phone, which I had grumbled at him to set on vibrate at some point during the height of my irritation.

I vaguely heard Peeta answer it once, speaking in a low reassuring murmur, but he didn't attempt to pass the phone to me. I knew he was talking to my mother, who was quite possibly one of the last people on the planet that I wanted to speak with at the moment.

I had not laid eyes on my mother in weeks; I stayed over at the Mellark's that often. Mom didn't like it— she never really had, even though she was a non-factor in the decision making portion of most of my life, especially after Dad died.

I suspected my mother's dislike of my whereabouts was a big part of why Talia never had me forcefully ejected from Mellark Manor all these years. She and my mom have detested each other for as long as I can remember, and I think it thrilled Talia to pieces every time I chose her home over my mother's. Like it was some little victory on their invisible scorecard. It all stemmed from some kind of high school feud that occurred long before I was born, and was obviously still dramatic enough that Mom couldn't suck it up and come to my best friend's funeral.

I honestly had nothing to say to her. Or anyone else, for that matter. I just wanted to fade away for a while.

To his credit, Peeta was a diligent companion, despite his misgivings about my coping mechanisms. He authoritatively ordered breakfast-in-bed to be brought up to us by Lavinia the maid, and intermittently attempted to rouse me from sleep, but I wasn't having any of it.

He propped me up and force-fed me tiny forkfuls of Eggs Florentine and fluffy biscuits, carefully bringing a glass of orange juice to my lips between bites. I briefly tolerated his attentions, chewing mechanically a few times before finally knocking the fork away like the spoiled brat-turned-mental patient that I was.

He carried me to the bathroom and _literally _sat my half-asleep body on the toilet, because the boy knew my bladder kicked in like clockwork at 9 AM sharp. I'm ashamed to say that I don't even remember making it back to the bed; I'm pretty sure he wiped and flushed for me, too.

He forced me into the shower by complaining loudly and heavily that I made him miss his nightly cleansing ritual last night, yet spent the entire time focused on tenderly rinsing my hair and washing my body with his soapy hands, supporting me as I stood on coltish, sleepy legs.

He sat me on the marble countertop in between the _His_ & _Hers_ sinks and set about the task of brushing my teeth, only pausing to tell me when to spit. I was even coaxed into holding my mouth open long enough for him to briskly give my teeth a quick flossing. I grumbled irritably, but I was too tired to fight.

He braided my wet hair with a tidy efficiency that I could never quite manage, carrying me back to bed and sighing when I immediately fell into a deep sleep again for an indeterminate amount of time.

The helpless, vulnerable Peeta that had made an appearance last night had tucked himself away firmly. In his place was a task master that was refusing to let me feel wallow in peace. He just wouldn't leave me _alone_.

"Katniss," he was saying to me in a singsong voice, biting my bare shoulder hard enough to leave behind the indentions of his perfect teeth.

I turned my head and cracked an eye open briefly before going back to ignoring him. I could tell that it was venturing into afternoon territory, if the light seeping in through his heavy drapes was any indication, and quickly buried my face further in the pillow to block out all forms of the sun.

He could never understand how I slept that way; it never failed to scare the hell out of him when he would wake up and find me face down on the bed. I couldn't count the amount of times I had been brutally shaken awake by a panicked Peeta, convinced that I had smothered myself to death in the middle of the night.

Those are the nights when_ he_ smothers me to death, pulling me tightly into his arms and refusing to let me go, even in the summer when I whine and bitch about being hot and sweaty and crowded.

"Should I be jealous? You have about twenty messages from Finnick," Peeta remarked, shamelessly scrolling through my text messages. I heard him tapping a response back to our friend, and instead of feeling violated, I'm just relieved that I don't have to deal with it.

He made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and continued, "You were apparently supposed to meet him and Annie at The Oyster two hours ago." I felt him wrap a finger around a thick strand of my hair and pull slightly. "I'm hurt. Where's my invite?"

"Lost in the mail while you were flirting with Glimmer Paladino," I bit out sharply, raising my head long enough to stare at him before dropping back down again. I was mad at myself for finally responding, for playing my card, but the memory of seeing him chat up the blonde last night was fresh on my mind. I was much too high and drunk to fight about it last night, but today everything stood out in sharp and painful relief.

Peeta was finally, blessedly, silent.

I was jolted out of sleep again when he poked me in the side. I'm ridiculously ticklish, and he knew it. "Fuck," I muttered, twisting away sleepily. "Leave me alone, asshole."

"No," he stated calmly, grabbing me by my naked hips and flipping me on my back easily. I glared at him as he leaned forward to hover over my face, so close that our lips touched as he spoke. "Prim was my sister, and if anyone should be lying around crying about it, it's me."

He quelled any vicious words on my lips with a firm kiss and a lazy flick of his thumb between my legs. My breath hitched as he mouthed his way down my chest, stopping to lick each of my stiffening nipples before traveling down to my belly button, swirling his tongue below my navel teasingly.

"I'm still mad at you," I sighed, arching my back a little.

He chuckled as he moved lower, and I could already feel the laugh vibrating between my legs. "We'll see."

"Are you fucking anyone else," I burst out, grabbing him by the hair before he reached the promise land.

He looked up and met my eyes unwaveringly. "Are you?"

I didn't take the bait. "Are you?" I pulled his hair harder.

"Are _you_?"

We stared at each other. It's clear that we've both been burning to ask this question.

"No," we said at the same time. The relief in the air was palpable.

I pushed his head back down between my legs. He brought me to life with his mouth, alternately nipping and licking in a way that made me squirm in earnest. Peeta looked up at me with lust-filled eyes, and I'm entranced as I watched him devour me thoroughly.

He had confessed on more than one occasion that this was his very favorite thing to do to me. It ranked pretty high up there for me, too.

_Prim is still downstairs at a typical Mellark dinner party, the unlucky one that got caught by Talia while we were sneaking back upstairs. Talia was trying to make an impression as "mother of the year" to the Superintendent of the Twelve Acre school system, and needed one of her golden children as a prop._

_Meanwhile, Peeta and I were holed up in his bedroom, trying to make lightning strike._

"_You still didn't, you know...?" he frowns down at me._

_I shrug, my legs still widened from the intrusion of his fingers. "I think it's harder for girls than it is for guys."_

"_What am I doing wrong," he sits up in frustration, staring between my thighs as if the answer will appear by magic._

"_It's not a big deal, Peet."_

_It kind of is, though. I can make him go off practically just by looking at his boner. It's different for me. Other than the first accidental orgasm, Peeta has only managed to make me come a handful of times with his fingers in the past couple of months. We have no idea how he did it, because we could never perfectly recapture the right movements, and neither of us really felt ready to go any further than that yet. _

_I think it just kills him that he's not a natural at something for the first time in his life._

"_Mm. I read about something. Let me- just…try this," he says distractedly, lying flat between my legs and leaning his face in closely. _

"_Woah!" I screech, my face on my fire. __I try to pull away but he holds me still. "Peeta!" I squirm. "Stop. I don't like tha-aaaahhhhh-" I lose all words at his first tentative lick._

_He spends years perfecting the art._

I'm so turned on and wracked with pleasure that I can already feel the tell-tale tremors taking over my body, spinning my lower abdomen into a mass of quivering muscle. I succumb with an embarrassingly loud scream, Peeta restraining my hips to the bed and tonguing me in earnest even as I'm crashing back down to reality.

I'm actually shocked that I didn't break Peeta's neck from the force in which my thighs came down around his ears. I tried to push him away when I felt that I was too sensitive to take anymore, but Peeta knocked my hand away impatiently, intent on consuming me completely. I let out an inhuman noise as he gave one last lick down my center before sucking hard on the delicate nub he had expertly coaxed from my folds. I started to see stars and my vision faded. I couldn't speak. As far as distractions go, it's pretty damn good.

I come again.

Peeta laughed as he crawled back to my side, kissing me briefly before dropping his head to rest on my pillow. I could taste myself on his lips, and wrinkled my nose.

"You're welcome," he said with a glistening smile, leaning in for another kiss just to piss me off.

I struggled to catch my breath, turning on my side as Peeta expectantly held his hand over my mouth. I licked his palm obligingly, watching with hooded eyes as he grasped his erection. Still boneless from before, I didn't offer to help, and he didn't ask. I reached over to lace my fingers though his free hand, and we watched each other lazily as he stroked himself to completion. I should have probably felt vile by how at peace I was with watching Peeta commit such an intimate solo act, but instead, I just felt relaxed and _normal_.

It amazed me, how worked up he could get— strictly by getting_ me _off.

When Peeta finished with a low grunt a few moments later, I pulled his hand back as he reached for a Kleenex. He made a small noise in his throat as I leaned over and licked the release off his stomach, his face unreadable as he watched me lap it up like a kitten with cream. I took his softening member in my mouth next, carefully licking him clean.

It was only polite.

I rested my head on his stomach when I was done, trailing my fingers down his arm and writing sweet words, watching in fascination as the golden hair on his forearm stood on end. I felt like a purring, satiated feline as he stroked my hair, enjoying our lazy _togetherness _in companionable silence for a while. Words were completely unnecessary, and the quiet was perfect. We needed it.

"I should go...home," I finally said, even though I did not relish the thought. I honestly did not feel even remotely ready to leave the safety net of Peeta's bed. "At least for a little while."

"Why?" he frowned, leaning over to stare at my face. "You said you wouldn't leave," he reminded me starkly.

"I didn't think you meant it quite so literally," I responded, sitting up and smoothing back one of his curls. "I've been here a long time, Peeta."

And I had. I stayed at Mellark Manor for the entire week leading up to the funeral after Prim's death, and I had been here for quite a few consecutive nights before that, too. "Van and Talia are probably ready to have me evicted. And now that Prim's gone…" I trailed off, swallowing thickly. "I'm sure they're terrified I'm defiling the prodigal son."

Peeta looked at me like I was crazy, and chuckled at little. "Are you kidding me?" He rolled over and rustled around in his nightstand, and I felt something heavy drop into my lap. I gaped.

It was a black box. The kind that rings come in.

I lifted stunned eyes to meet his blue ones.

"Dad gave me Grandmother's ring the night after Prim died," he said, watching my slackened face with amusement. "He said that I needed to finally make an honest woman out of you since we've been living in sin for half our lives, and we're graduating soon anyway. Personally, I think it would look good for his "family values" platform next term," he said with mock thoughtfulness. "Mother just sneered and said she didn't want to have any bastard grandchildren to explain to the Junior League."

"So what, everyone knows we're fucking?" I snapped, too shocked to say what was really on my mind, that this family really could not be any more perverse.

"You haven't spent a full night in Prim's room for years," he pointed out dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Why do you think Mother had Effie personally escort you to the gynecologist every year since you got your period?"

I remembered that day well.

It happened to be when I lost my virginity to Peeta.

_We're bored to death._

_It's the summer before freshman year of high school, and per tradition, the Mellark's took me along to their "cabin" on Lake Victor— only this cabin had ten guestrooms, two kitchens, staff quarters, a tennis court and gold faucets. Mrs. Mellark and the Senator had left for a "soiree" at a neighboring house across the lake, and weren't expected back until at least the morning. _

_Even when they were home, we seldomly ran into each other; the cabin house was that expansive. The couple weeks at the cabin were spent with practically complete autonomy between children and adults—fine by us. We all pretty much preferred it that way, even at Mellark Manor. Prim once confided in me that it used to make her and Peeta sad, being alone all the time, but then they got _me_._

_Prim is idly flipping through an edition of last summer's Cosmopolitan. Peeta and I are on the couch, our legs tangled together. He's studiously ignoring me for The _Catcher in the Rye, which is _part of our required summer reading curriculum,_ _and I'm trying to distract him by writing words on his calf. _

_**Y.O.U. A.R.E. A. N.E.R.D**__ I spell, hiding a smile. It's a long message, but I know he understands. _

_We've gotten great at this game._

_He tries to shoot me an annoyed look over his book, but I can tell from his slight shivers that he likes my fingertips trailing on his skin. _

"_You two should just do _it_," Prim casually says from her prone position on the floor, barely looking up from her magazine._

_My neck nearly snaps with the force that I turn to look at her. _

"_Stay out of our business," Peeta shoots at her, flushing a dull red as he glares at his twin._

"_You should," she says again, throwing the magazine down on the floor and looking at us with a challenge in her eye. "Katniss hasn't even gotten her period yet, so it's not like you have to worry about getting knocked up," she points out logically, like she's thought about this for a long time. As if she hadn't just calmly announced what a late bloomer I was. "This summer is prime."_

"_Prim!" I shout, mortified. "Ohmygod. What is _wrong_ with you?"_

"_You're fourteen," she stresses, spitting out our age as if we're ancient. Then she starts ticking off reasons we should listen to her._

"_We're about to be in high school, for fuck's sake. You're in a cabin, alone. Daddy and mother probably won't even be back until tomorrow night. You should do it," she pushes again, a glint in her eye._

_Peeta ignores her, his head once again buried in _The Catcher in the Rye_. I wonder if he is identifying with Holden Caulfield._

"_I mean, if you two don't _really_ like each other, you shouldn't though," she looks at her fingernails. "I don't know _exactly _what you do every night," _that's a blatant lie, I've told her everything, "_but you should only lose _it_ to someone you really love, so…"_

_Peeta is oddly quiet, but his leg is tense under my fingers. I feel my own face getting hot now. _

_We've never said that to each other. Not _really.

_Those three words. _

_All these years, the nights together, the kisses, the whispered promises. I didn't call him my boyfriend. We weren't _dating _like Thresh Tanner and Clove Peake -who liked to announce the fact every five seconds- because how can you date someone that practically lives in your house? _

_We're fourteen, but we act more married than his parents do. And, I think I love him._

_I know that I care about him in a way that isn't normal for our age. And I know for a fact that he feels the same way, too. Maybe more. It's in the way he can't _not_ be touching me, how he stares at me, and begs me not to go home. The way he fed me when I was hungry, took care of me when I was sick. And he never, ever even so much as _looks _at other girls, even when Delly and Glimmer all but rub their bikini tops in his face at the summer pool parties we all attend together._

_Unspoken vows. We've traced them on each other's bodies, saying things our lips are too shy to speak. _

_I've never doubted us, in the same way I've never doubted my friendship with Prim. The same ways I know that he cares are almost identical to the ways of Prim, only we're sisters, not...whatever Peeta and I are._

_But right now? He's staring at his stupid book like it's a lifeline. _

_Prim looks pleased as punch and not just a little triumphant._

_It all makes me angry and frustrated_.

"_Okay," I say._

_They look at me. Prim furrows her brow. Peeta isn't breathing._

"_Okay?" he chokes out, his book forgotten. _

"_Yeah," I say distractedly, standing up and holding a hand out to Peeta. "Why not?"_

_Prim looks stunned, and it occurs to me that she never actually thought that I would call her bluff._

_We leave her gaping stare behind as I lead Peeta by the hand to a random guest room. We're familiar with each other's bodies well enough now that shedding our clothes together is as natural as breathing. _

_We fool around for a while, and when it's time for the main event, he doesn't ask me if I'm _ready_, or if _I'm sure_, or any of that other stuff that guys do in movies and Sarah Dessen novels. And honestly, why would he? We both know we've been working our way up to the point of no return for a long time, and Peeta is well aware that I almost never initiate things that I don't want to do._

"_Okay…I need help," he finally says as he kneels between my legs, his face concentrated and slightly defensive as he tries to put _it _in and instead slips around awkwardly for a second. _

"_You? Mr. Perfect?" I can't resist the urge to tease him, still a little annoyed at his silence earlier, and wiggle my hips as I try to get more comfortable._

"_Katniss-" he huffs, exasperated. I go easy on him because there's a slight tremor in his body that I can't ignore. _

_Oh. He's scared. Strangely, I'm not._

"_Okay, okay," I say, reaching down and helping him. "This is so weird."_

_His laugh is abruptly cut off into a low groan as he slides in all the way. I feel a sharp pinch, but am otherwise oddly okay despite the intensely full feeling taking over as he moves out and forward again. He's been fiddling around down there long enough now that I think it's mostly prepared me for his penetration._

"_Does it hurt?" he gasps down at me, but doesn't stop thrusting. A tag from an old blanket we laid on top of the comforter keeps digging into my back a little when I move with the force of his thrusts._

"_Kind of, but not really," I choke out as he makes a particularly rough movement._

"Sorry_," Peeta mouths with a grimace, but he can't contain the pleasure laced groan he makes immediately after._

"_Does it…feel…good—yet?" he stutters out after possibly thirty seconds of sex._

"_No," I sigh honestly, watching with interest as his jaw slackens and his eyebrows knit together. 'Next time—maybe?" I say with difficulty as he jerks hard and tenses above me._

_He collapses forward, but I push him away to land next to me. "That was…" he trailed off, out of breath and blissful._

"_Shitty," I pout, sore, sticky and mostly serious._

"_Hey!" he scolds, his eyes happy and sated despite my attitude. "Look, I'll make it up to you," he promises, sliding down between my legs and doing the thing I like with his tongue._

_We throw away the spoiled blanket I was laying on and take our first shower together, Peeta hopping in and out of the scalding hot water at least twice, threatening to leave before finally sucking it up and joining me again. He conditions my hair and I wash his back, and I feel like a regular grown-up as he carefully dries me off with one of the largest, fluffiest towels that I've ever felt in my life. _

_I stiffen as he traces three words onto my shoulder. We kiss gently and start to dress._

_Prim is lounging on the bed we just defiled, trying to look casual and uninterested. "So, how was it?" she bites out, watching as we stumble out of the steamy bathroom._

"_Perfect," Peeta smiles at me. We look at each other goofily._

_Prim congratulates us but looks annoyed, and rolls her eyes when he doesn't let go of my hand the rest of the day._

_Later that night, I'm awakened by Peeta, who looks terrified. His bed is a bloody mess, and so am I._

"_Did I do this?" he agonizes over me, checking me over like I've been shot._

_I just shake my head in disbelief. _

"_It's my fucking period."_

_Prim shrugs when we tell her about it the next morning, wondering how we'll explain Peeta's bed to the staff. We all agree that we'll make Effie deal with it. I have to send her out to buy pads, anyway, because I'm too sore to use Prim's tampons._

"_Guess you should have waited," Prim informs me, searching the kitchen cabinets for a jar of Nutella. I glare at her. "Hey! Maybe you're pregnant after all."_

"_What? I'll help you raise the baby," she shrugs at my horrified look. _

"_Hey, that's _my_ baby in there!" I hear Peeta call from the pantry._

"_You're both insane," I grumble, deeply disturbed. _

_Effie takes me to the gynecologist on the Mellark's dime when we get back to Twelve Acre; my mom signs off on it. They put me on birth control to "control my cramps."_

_I'm not pregnant, of course._

_I could have sworn that the twins look strangely disappointed by that. _

"And here I always thought they took me to the gyno because I didn't have health insurance," I said sarcastically, half serious. Mostly, I was stunned.

I thought Peeta and I had been the best kept secret in Twelve Acre.

He read my mind. "You're the only one who ever thought we were a secret," Peeta said calmly.

I took that in, and it was a slow burn.

"Glimmer Paladino and Delly Cartwright apparently think it's a secret," I said, my voice turning colder.

"No," Peeta responded slowly, as if I were a small child. "They just don't really give a fuck."

"Oh, they give a fuck." I couldn't stop the words coming out of my mouth. Everything was going downhill fast. I felt cornered and hot and deeply distressed. And I say it.

"Glimmer literally gave you a fuck last year." I threw the ring box at him without ever opening it.

Peeta's face closed immediately.

"Oh, like you gave Gale Hawthorne one last year?" he asked with bitter darkness lacing every word, shoving the square case back into his dress drawer.

_Here we go_.

The thing about Peeta and I was that we had an awfully long, sordid history for being so damn young. Maybe at one time we had trusted each other implicitly and would have never had to baldly question one another's motives, or resort to playing sick little power games, but too much had happened between us to have that naïve, committed relationship that exists in fairytales and daytime dramas.

We never did become official; had never declared anything— even though it was painfully obvious to not only us, but apparently absolutely _everyone, _that we were together. We were always just this unspoken thing, too precious for words but also entirely too complicated to name. Not to mention, unnecessary. I never even cared or considered throwing on a label until I was confronted with the very real fact that Peeta Mellark clearly did not belong to me.

_Peeta finally opens the door, buckling his belt in a telling gesture, his eyes red-rimmed and bitter. I look behind him and see Glimmer Paladino pulling up the straps of her sparkly white dress, a scrap of matching material that passed for panties still lying on the floor. I turn my head to look at him in shock. His blue eyes are defiant, edged with heartbreak and contempt. _

_Glimmer walks between us with her shoes in her hand, but refuses to look me in the eye as she passes down the hall. "Hey, Katniss," she mumbles. I struggle to not attack her. Instead, I whirl around and practically run back to Prim's room. _

"_Katniss!' she exclaims, sitting up in bed as I sob brokenly in the middle of her room. "What's wrong?"_

"_Everything," I cry, collapsing into the arms that she holds out to me._

_I fall into a troubled, nightmarish sleep, Prim's hand circling on my back and my face buried in her long blonde curls. I wake up when I hear her door open, and I vaguely register an argument in the background. I hear Prim angrily telling Peeta to get out of her room._

_Instead, I feel the bed dip down next to me._

_He runs a hand through my hair tenderly and lays down next to me, our faces so close that our noses are touching together in an Eskimo kiss. _

_We breathe in each other's painful little intakes of air, quick gasps like sobs. I don't open my eyes._

_Soft lips touch mine. "Now we're even," he says hollowly. _

_His lips are wet and salty and taste like our tears._

We stared at each other, breathing heavily. Our good will from earlier is gone. We had been playing a strange game of cat and mouse for over a year now, batting each other around— sometimes playful, sometimes rough and spiteful, but we always found each other at the end of the day. We never stopped sleeping together, even after last year's infidelities, but we hadn't truly _made love_ since then. Last night was the first time we'd had sex since Prim died, and it had been a desperate joining fraught with emotional intensity that had bled over into the morning.

We were clearly back to varying levels of bitterness and suspicion.

He broke first. "I'm sorry," Peeta said stiffly. "I said I wouldn't bring that up again. It's over and done with it."

I twisted my fingers together. I felt like a much older version of our selves. _Mommy and Daddy are getting a divorce. It's not you, it's me. _"Peeta…"

"It's over. I don't wish to discuss it," he cut me off harshly, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about Gale fucking Hawthorne, or any _Hawthorne for that matter_, ever again."

"I don't even talk to them anymore! _Any of them_. _Ever_!" I screamed and sat up on my knees, fed up and guilty and sick at the thought of that night a year ago. "It was a horrible mistake. You _know _that I don't even really remember it," I added shakily.

"How does that make it any better?" he asked coldly, looking me over with a skeptical stare that made my skin crawl with shame and regret. "Am I supposed to feel better because you don't remember breaking my heart?" Then he dropped the bomb, "And that Prim got hurt that night because of your _mistake_?" I sucked in a breath.

"That's not fair," I said quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

He shot me a look laced with barely concealed rage, standing up from the bed and pulling on his black briefs. "Yes, well," his voice shaking, busying himself with his slacks, "nothing about that night was _fair_, was it? You think it was _fair _for me to get a call in the middle of the night to drive out to Seam Avenue, of all places, to pick up the girl that I'm in lo-" he paused, clearly struggling, "_involved with_, who was obviously freshly fucked and drugged out of her mind_?_"

I lowered my head.

He continued ruthlessly, his blue eyes glacial with fury. "Was it _fair _to carry my battered, unconscious sister to the car?"

"No," I whispered, sick to my stomach. My skin crawled to even think about that night. "It wasn't. I never stopped apologizing for that to Prim. She forgave me," I said, hating myself for sounding weak. _No one blamed me more for that night than myself_.

"She might have forgiven you," he said deliberately, meeting my eyes. I steeled myself, because I knew him well enough to recognize that he was going in for the kill. "But she _obviously never forgot _that she was _raped._"

I recoiled as if he slapped me.

He might as well have.

"Why else would she have…" his voice trailed off, losing steam. My hands trembled.

"You took her there," he pushed, his tone oddly deflated. It was more of a question than an accusation. _Why did you even go there _was the underlying implication. _Why did you do that to me_ is the pleading undertone. "She trusted you."

This conversation was huge, because Peeta almost never talked about those events. He shut down completely after that night, after he found out about my indiscretion and Prim's attack, and once he had his pound of flesh from me, he never wanted to speak of it again. However, I was far too angry and devastated to read between the lines at the moment.

I stood up from the bed, careful not to fall into a heap like yesterday. I slipped yesterday's dress over my head jerkily, Peeta watching me as if he didn't know who he hated more; me or himself.

"I didn't kill Prim," I finally choked out, utterly betrayed at the implication. "_Prim killed herself_. And we'll _never_ know exactly why."

His eyes flickered painfully. I know mine reflected the same emotion. We were trying desperately to injure each other, but were only managing to hurt ourselves.

"How could you..." I trailed off with a swallow, because he was looking at me with the same words on his lips. _How could you_. His face was a mask of wounded regret, but he didn't apologize as I headed for the door.

"Someday you're going to tell me about that night," he said quietly, looking as if he wanted to either screw me or choke me.

"Good luck with that," I said over my shoulder with a harsh, humorless laugh. "Because _I don't fucking remember_." All I remembered was regret and a deep-seated sickness; grey eyes like mine moving over me and long blonde hair; laughter and pleading cries in the distance.

I paused, my hand on the doorknob. "But you're never going to believe me, are you," I said flatly. _And we're never really going to be okay until you do. _

He didn't respond, and I twisted the doorknob.

"Katniss."

I turned slightly.

"At least I got you out of the bed."

I slammed the door so hard that I heard crystal breaking in the distance.

**-x-**

**-x-**

**-x-**

**-x-**

For the record, I'm a strong believer in HEA's, so just keep that in mind.

I'm not completely sadistic.

Also, once again, this story is being cross-posted at **archiveofourown** as **misshoneywell**, so in the horrible and likely event that this story is taken down, that's where I'll be. I'm **hemsworthys** dot **tumblr **dot **com** if you're interested in my other happenings. Thank you for indulging in my twisted mind. You're all beautiful.

Reviews are love.


	5. Chapter 5

The pain and anger I felt radiating from my very core put me in a state beyond tears.

We just had an argument that was long overdue, but fuck, it had _hurt_.

Prim was dead and Peeta had just given me that look— a look that said he _hated_ me, that I was every bit of the unfaithful whore that he had once accused me of being.

Jesus. Everything had gone to shit so quickly_._ I blamed it on the fact that I had been lulled into a false sense of security due to the past few nights in relative harmony that Peeta and I had spent together— so, when he pounced, it felt ten times worse than if I had actually seen it coming.

I hate surprises; I hate not being in control of my emotions. Combining the two together tended to produce situations that are disastrous at best.

I shouldn't be surprised that it happened. It was just that Prim had always been a buffer between Peeta and I when things got too rough this past year. After what happened, when things became so hopelessly complicated and fucked up, Prim's presence kept our demons at bay. Peeta and I learned to heal around the knife lodged inside our hearts, Prim sealing off our open wounds like ivy. And now that she was gone, it was as if everything was fresh again.

By the time I stumbled downstairs and reached the front door that I seldom used, I came to the realization that I was literally walking out with nothing but the clothes on my back. No phone, no shoes, no keys— though, it occurred to me with a start that I was sorely lacking in the transportation area now that Prim was gone and my standing with Peeta was shaky at best.

_I'm so goddamn pathetic_.

I didn't even own a car.

It was actually disturbing how much I had come to depend on the Mellarks over the years. I wondered where I would be right now if they hadn't swallowed me up in an all-encompassing veil of luxury and blissful ignorance of the outside world. Would I be sitting on a car hood on Seam Avenue, chain smoking Marlboro Red's to stave off a gnawing hunger in my belly? A high school drop-out?

No. I probably wouldn't even be alive.

There was almost nothing that I owned in the world that hadn't been supplied to me by this family. I was probably the only eighteen year old on the planet that didn't have a debit card or checking account.

But, I could easily walk home. The town was small enough that I could get around pretty much anywhere I wanted on my own two legs, made strong by years of tennis doubles and long walks in the wooded trails at the Country Club, which was still a safe haven to this day. I suddenly longed to go there. It had been weeks, months really, since I had escaped to the woods.

With renewed energy, I strode with purpose to the front door. I needed fresh air. I needed sunshine. I need a new perspective.

I needed to get the hell out of this house.

A sharp grip wrapped around my upper arm and pulled me back into the house before I made it outside. "Katniss, darling! Be a dear and pick up Primmy's things from Freeman's Funeral Home, would you?" Talia trilled strangely, holding out the keys to Prim's Porsche.

"Things…?" I questioned dumbly, utterly baffled and feeling a headache settling deep inside my frontal lobe. I felt a pang of longing as I thought about Peeta, angry and lurking upstairs, but an expert at massaging the pain from my skull with his firm, capable fingers.

"Yes, her jewelry, and _oh!_ That gilt-edged platinum frame that was sitting by the flower arrangement. It's an heirloom," she said musingly, her finger on her chin. "The funeral director should have it all boxed up and ready to come home."

_Her jewelry? What the hell? _I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

I must have said as much out loud, because Talia shot me a long-suffering look. "Did you think we would bury her with that diamond ring and 3.5 carat earrings?" she asked as if I was the world's biggest idiot. "No daughter of mine is going to be a grave robber's victim."

I had no words. I really didn't.

"What?" Talia questioned, growing impatient by my stunned silence. Her moods were as changing as the wind. "Would you rather have Haymitch drive you? I think he's on an errand for Van," she said, jingling the keys to the Porsche in her hand.

"No-"

"Good. I've already spoken with Effie about transferring ownership of the Porsche over to you," she added casually. My head swung to stare at her dead-on. _What_.

"We all have our own methods of transportation, and I can't have my son's…girlfriend," she wrinkled her nose at such a plebian word, or perhaps the acknowledgement that I was Peeta's significant other, "walking around like common Seam trash. After all, Peeta can't be with you _all_ the time," she said resentfully. "He needs to meet with some of his father's bereaved constituents today."

I sucked my teeth and painstakingly deliberated before speaking.

I couldn't even begin to explain to Talia what Peeta and I were. Should I tell her that I had no business taking Prim's Porsche? That I didn't even _want _the Porsche? That Peeta and I could be done for good, after that massive blow-out upstairs? None of it was her business, but clearly the depth of my loneliness and confusion pushed me into the admittance that I made next.

"Peeta and I are, um, fighting," I exhaled in one breath. Talking about my relationship with Peeta was beyond abnormal. God, I must be desperate for resolutions if I'm confiding in Mrs. Mellark. "He may not even want to see me again. The Porsche, Talia, I don't feel right—"

Talia cut me off with swift hand motion; my mouth shut with an audible click, as if I were a stringed marionette doll. Maybe I was.

"Katniss," she said. "I do not care if your fight came to blows—you will make my son happy. We've invested too much for you to just walk away now over some silly little tiff. My children's obsession with you has been beyond my understanding, but nevertheless, here we are."

She paused to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and I flinched at the contact.

"I've long since resigned myself to the fact that my son has not, and will never, let you go."

We looked at each other. I had the strangest feeling that I was staring into my future. I couldn't guess what she saw.

"I would suggest that you do the same," Talia finished with cold precision, stepping closer to press the keys from her outstretched hand into my limp one.

I watched as she disappeared in true wicked-witch-in-a-storybook fashion, only breathing again when she was completely out of my line of sight. I swallowed and looked around. In any other normal household, there would be a conveniently located pile of discarded shoes for me to choose from. But, no. Not in this castle.

I stumbled outside, the sun bright despite the crisp nip in the air, and I shivered as my feet crunched over the cold autumn leaves. I made my way to the side of the house, where a detached garage stored their millions of dollars' worth of vehicles. I entered a side door and sidled up to Prim's car. Just looking at it depressed the fuck out of me. I didn't want this car. I could barely stand the thought of even sitting in this car.

Prim had died in this car.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to focus on all of the good memories we had experienced in there, and on the fact that she would want me to have it. It wasn't working.

I stood there for a moment before finally unlocking the car doors of the Porsche with the key fob. I walked to the trunk and hesitated before opening it, but I knew I would find what I needed inside.

I had a pretty limited option for shoes, but sure enough, they were there—a pair of hideous, barely worn Uggs, sand-coated flip flops from a beach trip early in the summer, and a pair of six inch fuck-me stilettos. The only point in the favor of the heels was that they were black and went with my dress. I was already reaching for the impractical designer shoes when a familiar voice rang out like a shot behind me.

"Well, ain't you just a sight for sore eyes," Haymitch said with his brand of lazy sarcasm.

"Jesus, Haymitch," I said, clutching at my heart. He had to have been watching me for a few minutes. What a jerk. "Why are you lurking? I thought you were ferrying Van around."

"Where's the boy?" he asked in annoyance. "Been waiting on him all day."

I felt momentary guilt at the fact that I had kept Peeta tied up all day, basically at my beck and call. Then I remembered the fight we just had, in which he basically called me a murderous whore, and didn't feel so awful anymore.

Haymitch saw my face and interpreted my expression. "Supposed to take him to meet Van," he shrugged, moving from his relaxed position against a chrome workbench that was really more for show than anything. "No skin off my back."

"He's...I'm sure he's coming," I muttered, grabbing the shoes and slamming Prim's—_my_ trunk. Jesus, this can't be my car. What will people think?

"Oh, I'm sure he is, too," Haymitch said, smirking.

"What the hell is your problem, old man?" I snapped, whirling around and glaring at my sometimes confidante in this permanent house of insanity.

"You don't deserve him, you know. Him, or this family. Neither of us," he said cryptically.

I stared at him.

"You're a glorified driver, Haymitch. I'm pretty sure even you deserve that. And I'm..." I trailed off.

He barked out a laugh.

"You're a damn fool, girl." He motioned towards Prim's Porsche. "Your chariot awaits," he said with a mocking smile, verifying that Talia wasn't just fucking with me about the ownership of the vehicle.

"Oh— and the Senator wanted me to pass this along to you," he said casually. He walked over and handed me an envelope that I didn't bother to look at. The parcel burned in my hand.

He gave me a knowing look as I backed away towards the car door.

"It's a hard life, ain't it, sweetheart?" he asked, using a small remote control to open the garage door for me.

His jeering laugh followed me even as I drove out onto the circular drive.

The sun was bright in my eyes as I drove blindly down the oak lined street, with its opulent, turreted houses set far back on their lawns in order to afford the wealthy their privacy.

I studiously tried to ignore the envelope lying on the seat next to me, and cursed as I almost drove off the road while failing in my attempt.

I fought a wave of bitterness as I pulled a pair of Gucci shades down from the sunglass compartment overhead, and suddenly a surge of memories hit me hard.

_We're barely sixteen and hanging out with a group of friends we now consider as our regular crew. It's been a little strange, hanging out with such a diverse group of people after years of it almost being exclusively just myself and the twins, but high school makes it necessary to travel in a pack. The social hierarchy doesn't allow for lone wolves, and while I can handle the solitude, Peeta and Prim are too hot a commodity to not be surrounded at all times by an admiring flock. _

_So, we compromise and come up with a group we could all agree on, and a couple of days a week we make a big show of having hang out nights, group movie trips, and tooling around town in the cars of those lucky enough to be in possession of a license –basically, Madge and Cato. _

_It's fun, but honestly, we are glad when the time comes for everyone to go home, and we're back to just the three of us again. The twins are always extra attentive to me when we're back at the Manor; Prim brushes my hair and massages my back for hours if I let her, and Peeta usually wakes me up with his head between my legs, muttering afterwards about the way David Marvel had been staring at my ass, or some other such paranoid accusation. It's ironic, really, because _I _always feel like the one being deprived of _them _during these outings_,_ while Glimmer or Delly monopolize all of Prim's time, or when Marvel and Cato pull Peeta off to go do "bro activities."_

_These trips are emotionally exhausting for all of us, and I become increasingly aware that the attachment we have to each other might be strange to outsiders. Peeta would stare at me longingly across the table when we are out at group lunches, too far to hold hands. When Clove would squish between Prim and I, the irritation radiating from Prim was obvious to me from even one seat away. _

_Our outings are also very expensive. It doesn't help that our group is full of privileged kids. It seems as if every restaurant and every activity we ever engage in requires at least a fifty dollar bill, and needless to say, my pocket is a dust bin at all times._

_My lack of funds is never an obstacle, but it is still embarrassing. Peeta and Prim don't make it easier, because they simply do not understand what it's like for me. They sometimes even argue over who gets the privilege of footing the bill for whatever expense I am accumulating—seriously, who the hell argues over who _gets_ to spend money? It has reached an especially humiliating point now that there is a group to witness it. I was growing tired of the jealous and disdainful looks that were sent my way when one of the twins obliviously, cheerfully, attended to my every monetary need. _

_I finally reach my limit when we're shopping downtown at a series of stores that are known for catering to the wealthy portion of town. Prim and I stop in one of them to try on sunglasses while Glimmer, Delly and Madge trail behind us. Peeta and the boys break off to go into a sporting goods store across the street._

"_What do you think?" Prim asks, striking a pose and making a silly face at our reflection in the mirror on the wall of the shop. "Jackie O or Jackie No?" _

_I laugh and shake my head. "I like them," I say, admiring my identical tortoiseshell Gucci shades. "I don't know if the former first lady would approve but I'm definitely feeling them."_

_Prim shrugs. "Good enough," she says, pulling me towards the check-out counter. "We want these," she says to the clerk imperiously, pointing at the shades that are still on our faces. _

"_What? Prim, no," I say firmly, pulling the sunglasses off and laying them on the counter. I see the check-out girl's face fall. She must get paid on commission. _

"_Don't even pull this bullshit on me, Katniss," Prim says in annoyance, shooting me a glare when I smack the hand that reaches for the glasses I had just laid down. "I want us to match." I'm uncomfortably aware of Glimmer, Delly and Madge approaching us with their own purchases._

"_You just bought me a pair of boots, that leather jacket at Ralph Lauren— oh, and my lunch at The Oyster," I whisper furiously, aware that the check-out girl and our friends are now listening. I stare at the girl while I am speaking, and she hastily rings up Prim's purchase. _

"_Actually, I bought your lunch," Peeta says, appearing at my elbow. He and the boys must have come in while Prim and I were debating back and forth._

_He jostles his sister out of the way and cuts in line in front of the other girls, throwing a pair of Aviators and his credit card on the counter next to my abandoned shades. The Aviators don't look remotely like his style, and I question if he didn't just grab them from a rack on the way in._

"_I'd like these, please," he stops to look at the girl's nametag, "Amanda." He smiles charmingly at her, who melts in return. "Oh, and also those shades for my favorite girl." I turn to him in a huff and am about to give a repeat performance of the fit I had just given Prim, but he wraps an arm around my shoulder and claps a hand over my mouth. _

_Amanda the check-out girl giggles at his antics, swiping his credit card and completing the purchase before I can protest. Prim watches with an unreadable expression on her face as Peeta picks up the Gucci shades and places them over my eyes, careful to tuck the stems behind my ears._

"_Perfect," he says, his hand lingering on the side of my face. He kisses my cheek and walks over to where Cato and Marvel are trying on pairs of Aviators like the kind Peeta just purchased. Prim and I move out of the way as the other girls walk forward in line to buy their items. I notice that they all have varying brands of sunglasses in tortoiseshell patterns. _

"_Big brother to the rescue," Prim says sardonically, the younger twin by two minutes. She pulls out her phone and presses our faces together, taking a photo of us in our matching accessories._

_The flash of the iPhone camera hits my eyes as I hear Delly whisper something to Glimmer, and I catch the words "Seam" and "whore" and "must be nice." _

_I stiffen but Prim just rolls her eyes, unfazed. "Jealous bitches," she says in my ear, and kisses me on the cheek in exactly the same spot as Peeta had a few moments before._

_The rest of my day is ruined, and the sunglasses burn hot on my face._

I reached up to touch the tortoiseshell shades covering my eyes, and looked over briefly at the envelope lying on the passenger seat, where I had thrown it moments before.

_Don't even look. Don't even look_.

I blew out a breath of air, banging on the steering wheel in frustration. Predictably, despicably, I break.

"_Fuck!_" I shout at the passenger seat, reaching over to snatch the envelope and shake out its contents out, spilling crisp green leafs of paper onto the seat.

It looked to be about a grand.

"Jesus, Van," I groaned. I felt even more like a whore than usual.

I had been receiving these unsolicited funds at staggered times for over two years now. After the first time I received a large chunk of money from the Senator, I tried to return it about a thousand different ways. I shoved it in his desk drawers, his car, through Haymitch, and once even in a highball glass. It always found its way back to me, until finally Peeta and Prim almost caught me retrieving it from the seat that I always sat at during breakfast. I quickly learned my lesson after that.

I never wanted either of the twins to know that I was receiving money from their father. This was for a multitude of obvious reasons— the most important one being that it would seem as if I was being paid to be in their lives, which was unfortunately true in a sense. The other was because I _did_ in fact need the money, and the first time that it was offered to me, I was so fucking pissed off and young that I didn't bother to consider the future ramifications if I accepted such a gift. Also, it was mostly the Senator's fault that I was in the position to even _need_ the money in the first place.

"_I have to get a job," I say, lying back against the pillows and staring at the ceiling as Peeta pants beside me, trying to catch his breath. _

"_Mm? Why?" he murmurs, and I can tell he is only half-listening as he presses a kiss to my neck. I fight off a surge of irritation at his lack of interest in anything other than cuddling with me in his post-sex high._

"_Because I can't keep doing this," I say, pulling my neck away. The hand that is stroking my damp hair stills for a moment as he lifts up on an elbow to look at me._

"_Doing what?" he asks carefully._

"_Not _this_," I clarify, waving to us both and rolling my eyes. He visibly relaxes. "Just…the money thing. You paying for everything, all the time. And Prim. I mean, it's pathetic. Me, I mean."_

"_You're my…you're mine," he says simply. "We take care of each other. Simple." _

_He kisses me, as if that's the end of the conversation._

_I push him away and sit up to level a glare at him._

"_Not so simple, when all of our friends look at me like I'm the biggest gold-digger in the world every time we go out. I need my own money, Peeta. God. I have to be able to get my own clothes. Pay my cell phone bill. Go home, and know that I can buy my own groceries," I say in frustration. Lord knows, my mom wasn't doing it. I don't know how she was surviving, but every time I did bother to go home, the kitchen was like a holocaust._

"_So that's the only reason you stay with me? For the food?" he teases, his expression falling as he sees the fury on my face. "Okay, wait—" he tries to stop me as I leap from the bed._

"_This isn't a joke, Peeta! This is my life. I'm not your whore, and I'm not Prim's plaything," I yell, not even caring if I wake up the whole house. "One day you're not going to be here, and I need to take care of myself because—"_

"_Woah," he says, his eyebrows creasing. "I'm not going anywhere." He stands up and walks toward me like I'm a wounded animal._

"_Everyone leaves," I say. "One day you're going to go to Harvard or Yale or Georgetown, and I'm going to be here in Twelve Acre. I'm preparing for that."_

"_I'm never leaving you behind," he says, crossing the distance and pulling me to him. "What is this all about? Why the hell would you say that you're a whore? Did someone say something to you earlier?"_

"_No," I lie, my voice quivering. All the fight drains out of me suddenly._

_He sees through me. He always does._

"_Katniss," he pulls back to look at me, alarm in his eyes. "Don't cry. If you cry, I'm going to lose it. Then I will murder every one of those catty, classless girls, and I really _will_ have to leave you."_

_I press a shaky, silencing kiss to his lips. "It's not like that, okay? I just need my own stuff. I need my own independence."_

_He's quiet for a moment, and then nods. "I get it," he says in a subdued voice._

"_Then what's wrong?" I frown up at him._

"_I just don't want to share my time with you." I laugh slightly at his petulant tone, mollified now that I have his understanding. I pull Peeta back to bed, using my mouth and hands to show him my appreciation. _

_Prim's reaction is much more explosive._

"_Why the fuck would you do a stupid thing like that?" she snaps a week later, arms folded across her chest as she stares at me. I had just broken the news that I applied to a few positions— Crestview Country Club; Wheels, the skating rink; Sprinkles, the frozen yogurt shop downtown; and Highland Stables, where everyone in town boards their horses. Basically, they were all the places that would hire a sixteen year old in Twelve Acre._

"_Did you know about this?" she asks, speaking over my head to her brother. He shrugs and bites an apple, unfazed by her anger. _

"_I drove her," Peeta says. He had just gotten his license a few days ago. It had infuriated Prim, because she failed the test._

_She makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "Is this because of that shit Delly and Glimmer said when we were shopping the other day?" Peeta shoots me an "_a-ha"_ look and I grimace at him._

"_No. Yes. Look. This is why I didn't tell you. Stop making me feel like this is wrong, okay? A normal person would be doing this at sixteen."_

"_You're not normal!" Prim exclaims, gesturing around her at the lavish breakfast nook. "You have everything!'_

"_No, _you _have everything," I shout back. "I'm just the random girl that followed you home from the playground one day and has been benefitting ever since."_

_Prim slaps me. Peeta drops his apple and disappears from the room. _

"_Don't ever say that again," she says fiercely, pulling my shocked form into a hug. "You're my best friend. You're Peeta's…everything. You belong here, with us. Not slaving away at some bullshit, menial job that you don't even need. I won't stand for it."_

_I'm pulled away by Peeta, who already has a bag of ice in his hand. He fusses over my cheek and glares at Prim. "What is wrong with you?" he demands._

_She looks confused, like she doesn't know herself. "I'm sorry…Katniss, I'm sorry. You know I'll give you anything."_

"_I want a job," I say coldly. I cannot believe she slapped me. "I need a member to sponsor me at the Club."_

_She sighs, defeated. "I'll ask Daddy."_

_I nod and walk out, Peeta close on my heels. I don't speak to her for days, even when she tells me that she talked to her father on my behalf. I'm sullen and moody because I haven't heard back from any of the places that I applied to. When Peeta helplessly asks if there is anything he can do, I have him drive me to the places that had once seemed fairly promising only a few days ago. Everyone knew me, after all. I may be ' Seam,' but I was also an honorary Mellark._

_The lady who owns Sprinkles was apologetic, but wouldn't meet my eyes when she said the position had been filled._

_The manager on duty at Wheels was only a few years older than us, someone I knew vaguely from school. He thanked me for applying but said I didn't meet the age specification. _

_The Head Groomsmen at the stables was uncharacteristically curt when he said that I wasn't what they were looking for. _

_We were quiet as Peeta drove towards Crestview, my last hope. "Does this seem strange to you?" I turn in my seat to ask him. _

_He shrugs and keeps his eyes on the road. "Times are hard, I guess. Everyone is having trouble finding jobs."_

_I study his profile for a minute and turn back around in my seat._

_It's when I'm utterly rejected at the Club that I lose my cool. "What? Can I ask why?" I ask Chaff Woodrow, Head of Staff. "I got the impression the other day that if I had a sponsor, then I would be set."_

_Mr. Woodrow clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. He had always been very polite to me over the years and was someone that I consider to be a straight shooter. I also knew he was from Seam Avenue, once upon a time. "I'm a really good swimmer," I say, looking at Peeta for backup. He nods gamely. "And I'm great at pretty much anything outdoorsy."_

_Mr. Woodrow glances at Peeta almost imperceptivity before looking back at me. "The positions have been filled, I'm sorry," he repeats. "Feel free to try in the summer."_

_I stare at him, feeling helpless. I can see that I'm going to get nowhere with him._

"_Let's go, Katniss," Peeta finally says. "Thank you for your time," he adds politely, ushering me away gently but insistently._

"_I don't understand," I say repeatedly on the drive home, tears in my eyes. "I mean. Your dad said he would sponsor me. And I would have been a really good lifeguard or athletic assistant," I say miserably. "If I can't get a shitty job by a pool or serving frozen yogurt, what the hell _can_ I do?"_

_Peeta lays a comforting hand on my thigh, his index finger already tracing out a message. "It's okay, Kat," he says. "This doesn't change anything. It's not like this was life or death. You're going to be fine." _

_**I W.I.L.L T.A.K.E C.A.R.E O.F Y.O.U.**__ This has exactly the opposite effect on my mood than he was aiming for, but I don't take it out on him. He means well, and the fact of the matter is…I do need him._

_I let out a frustrated sigh and look down when I feel my phone vibrating in my lap. I glance at the caller ID screen and see that it's the number for the country club. My brow creases as I answer it._

"_Hello?"_

"_Miss Everdeen?" comes a hesitant voice that I recognize as Chaff Woodrow._

"_Yes?" I ask in confusion, a small drop of hope registering in my voice._

"_Look…I couldn't say this earlier. And I'll deny it if I'm ever pressed on the matter, but I just thought you should know— you've always been an upstanding young lady, and I knew your father…" he trails off before speaking again. "You were, well. You were blackballed from the position at the Club. And I suspect anywhere else, for that matter."_

"_What?" I ask in shock. I can see Peeta looking at me from the corner of my eye, and I feel his hand tighten on my thigh._

"_I don't know why, but Senator Mellark asked specifically for me not to hire you," he says quietly. "When you said that you were being sponsored, well…I just thought you should know," he repeats. "Good luck, Miss Everdeen."_

_I stare at the phone._

_Prim is joyous when she finds out that I'm still unemployed. Peeta is sympathetic. I'm furious. I say nothing to them about the phone call from Mr. Woodrow. I don't want him to get in trouble, and also I don't even know what I would say. I'm pretty sure it's something I would regret, and they don't deserve it. At least, Peeta doesn't. _

_Instead, I go straight to the source._

_I enter Senator Mellark's office the next afternoon with barely a knock to warn him. He looks up but doesn't seem at all surprised to see me._

"_Have a seat, Katniss," he says calmly. I sit down, my eyes trained on his face. I notice that he looks very tired, but I'm too pissed to sympathize._

"_It will be easier if we agree not to lie to each other," he says, sitting back in his chair._

"_You were never going to sponsor me, were you?" I ask bluntly._

_He shakes his head slowly. "Katniss. You have a much more important job right here," he says gently. _

"_Don't patronize me," I say furiously._

"_I'm not," he says, startled. "You're the only person that the twins will remotely listen to. Do you know that I caught Primrose with her bags packed, ready to walk out the door at least twice before she met you?"_

"_We were nine," I frown. _

_He nods. "Exactly. They have always been…a handful."_

"_They're perfect," I say automatically, and then scowl. It's as if it's written in my DNA to defend them, even when it's to my detriment. Senator Mellark nods approvingly._

"_Every time you go home," he coughs and takes a sip from a high ball glass full of amber colored liquid before continuing, "both of my children barely leave their room, and when they do, even Peeta is a force to reckon with."_

_I'm quiet before speaking. "This isn't fair," I finally say. "To put that on me."_

"_I'm sorry," he says simply. "But it's the way it must be. You're a good influence on my children, Katniss. The only influence, if I'm to be honest. I'm afraid their mother and I haven't always been what they need. The fact of the matter is that it seems as if _you_ are. And I'll deny my children nothing," he finishes seriously, ending the matter._

"_Thanks for nothing, Senator," I say, standing up abruptly._

"_I _am_ sorry, Katniss. I do admire you," he says to my back. "You remind me of your mother a great deal."_

_It is both a perplexing and deeply offensive comment._

_My hand hovers over the doorknob, and I turn slightly to speak. "Don't insult me further," I say coldly, and slam the door as I leave._

_The first envelope of money shows up two days later._

I'm so caught up in memories that I almost missed the turn that leads into the driveway of the Odair estate. I entered the five digit passcode that allowed access to their security gate, and drove forward when the wrought iron monstrosity finally swung open.

I parked in front of a beautiful but comically ostentatious marble fountain of a mermaid being embraced by a merman holding a trident. Prim and I used to tease Finnick mercilessly about his resemblance to the merman, to which he expressed much displeasure. I smiled a little as I walked up to the side door that I knew lead to the kitchen.

"Hello?" I called out, stepping into the brightly lit, cheery kitchen that held absolutely no resemblance to the clinically chrome space at the Mellarks. Even the presence of Sae wasn't much help in humanizing that kitchen.

A familiar, grey haired figure came bustling out of the pantry, and I smiled at the sight of her.

"Hi, Mags," I said, walking forward and giving her a rare hug.

"Deah...gull," she chattered happily. To anyone else other than the Odair's, myself and Peeta, it would have sounded like nonsense, but I was accustomed to her garbled speech.

Even after her stroke a few years ago, Mags was still as irrepressible a force than ever. Though she was more of a family member to the Odair's than a laborer at this point in her life, Mags still ran the kitchen and oversaw the daily housekeeping staff with an iron fist.

"Dear girl?" I chuckled, hopping up onto the marble counter top. "You must have the wrong person."

She shook her head and clucked her tongue at me. "What...y'weah-in?" she questioned, giving my outfit a hard eye.

I shrugged ruefully. "I've seen better days, I guess."

She sighed in fond exasperation and pulled the hem of my dress down futilely, handing me a roll from a bread basket.

"Where's Finnick?" I asked around a mouthful of food.

"Club," she said, popping my leg to chastise my lack of manners before placing a glass of apple juice into my hands. She made a cell phone gesture and I shook my head.

"Forgot it. Going old school today," I said, gulping down the juice thirstily. "Gotta track down people the old-fashioned way."

She offered me her cell, and when I declined, she gestured towards the wall phone. "I'll just catch him at the Club," I said, hopping down from the counter. I made a move as if to rinse my glass, but Mags snatched it out of my hand and did it for me.

"Boy?" she asked.

I looked away. "Peeta's at home."

She grabbed my chin and nodded knowingly. "Boy love you."

"Got to get going, Mags," I deflected, kissing her cheek and flittering away. "I'll see you soon," I promised.

She grasped my hands before I could escape out the door.

"Prim...at peace," she said with startling clarity, despite stumbling over the _s _and _r_ sounds. "You...an' the boy. Too, now," Mags commanded seriously. Peeta wasn't kidding when he said everyone knew about us.

"It's not that easy," I whispered, pulling my hands away gently.

She watched me leave with dark, sad eyes, even as I hastily jumped into the car and pulled out of the driveway.

xoxoxoxo

Thank you so much to everyone who has PM'd, reviewed and rec'd me. I appreciate it more than you know, and it is what encouraged me to post even after dealing with some unpleasantness from certain readers. This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has patiently supported me this whole time, especially my tumblr girls.

You can find me on tumblr at _hemsworthys_** dot** _tumblr_ **dot** _com_. Come be my friend if you are not clinically insane.

Next installment will be soon.


	6. Chapter 6

I searched the center console for a cigarette, looking for any kind of relief from the emotional encounter with Mags a moment ago. "Goddamn," I muttered, but then almost cried with joy when my fingers closed around a pack of Merit Ultra Lights. I pulled one out and lit it with the built in lighter, and although it was a stale, disgusting stick of death, it tasted fabulous to me.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, trying not to think about Mags and her words of wisdom. I appreciated the sentiment, but it really wasn't just as easy as Peeta loving me; of us just coming together in harmony in the wake of a mutual tragedy. I wish it was that simple.

I hastily finished the cigarette as I approached the Crestview Country Club. I stubbed it out and forced the remains down into an empty water bottle that was sitting in the drink holder. Disgusting habits aside, I was not a litterer.

The gatekeeper at the club waved me in without any fanfare, despite the fact that I wasn't an official member. That was a mere technicality at this point.

I pulled up to the circular lane and parked directly in front of the white-pillared clubhouse, greeting the valet and handing him my keys and a twenty from the handful of cash that I grabbed from the envelope in the passenger seat.

The familiar scent of gardenias and opulence hit my nose as I entered the clubhouse, and I nodded at a few older Club members as I passed through the lobby. I looked like a wreck in my day-old dress, but I was beyond caring. At least I was in formal wear worth thousands of dollars. They were wearing fucking culottes.

A white jacketed attendant approached me stealthily. "May I escort you to the dining hall, Miss Everdeen?"

I shook my head and offered him a half-smile. "Hey, Twill. I'm actually looking for Finnick," I said, glancing behind him to peer towards the dining hall.

"I believe Mr. Odair is taking a stroll in the gardens," he responded, a twinkle in his eye. We've been coming here long enough for Twill to know that's code for getting stoned.

"Thanks," I said distractedly, slipping a bill into his jacket. I barely heard his murmur of gratitude as I teetered away through the winding hallways. I debated on taking off my shoes but decided to maintain at least some level of propriety. It's why I chose these impractical heels over crusty flip flops and despicable Uggs, after all. Maybe Effie was wearing off on me—not that I'd ever admit it to her.

I pondered cutting through the dining hall, which was definitely a shorter route, but I did not relish the idea of dealing with the judging stares that were sure to come my way. I had my fill of that last night at the funeral reception, and I was sure half the people eating at the Club right now were at the Mellarks last night.

So, I wound my way through the halls until I reached the French doors that lead to the garden patio, taking a grateful breath of fresh air when I stepped out into the fragrant landscape. This may not be the wild forests that backed up to the Seam, a place where my father and I had spent so much time during my childhood, but this still felt like home to me in a different way.

I waved half-heartedly to a few random acquaintances that were playing croquet –seriously, croquet- and veered off towards the mostly abandoned trails that I knew would lead me to Finnick.

I slipped off my heels and walked barefoot through the winding trails, flinching a little as I took a particularly unkempt, rooted path that spilled out into a verdant clearing, far from prying eyes.

There he was, sitting by a reflection pond that had long since been reclaimed by nature, staring at the pool of water, his feet and legs submerged. Finnick looked every inch of the merman in his family's fountain. I opened my mouth to tell him so when he beat me to punch.

"Finally," he said without turning around.

"How did you know I'd come?" I asked, inexplicably irritable.

"You're nothing if not predictable in your unpredictability," he said arrogantly, looking up to smile at me.

"What does that even mean?" I grumbled, tossing my heels to the ground before easing myself down to sit beside him.

"It means I knew you would miss out on lunch, feel guilty, and meet me here at your 'secret place'," he said. "Though, I must admit that I expected a phone call. I've been here for hours. Annie says hello, by the way. She had to go back to DC early."

"Sorry, I left my phone," I said briefly, squishing my toes into the soft grass at the edge of the pond.

"I know. I talked to Peeta."

I slapped his leg lightly. "Ugh. You're so full of shit. 'Predictable in my unpredictability,' my ass," I scoffed. Then I paused. "How'd he sound?"

"Like Peeta," he said unhelpfully. "Clucking like a hen frantically searching for it's baby chick."

"Disturbing metaphor, Finn."

"Why? Because mother hens don't fuck their babies?"

"You are so gross," I said, but didn't bother to correct him. What's the point? He knew more than almost anyone about our relationship, the past, and that night that changed everything. It's nice to not have to pretend to be normal or okay.

My eyes brightened when I noticed him remove a joint from a pocket inside of his pea coat.

He lit it and immediately handed it to me. I took a long hit and sat back on my elbows, letting the THC release me from a day of frantic thoughts. There was a nice breeze in the air, and the fall leaves falling into the pond made the scene almost eerie in its beauty. I closed my eyes and soaked in the serenity, a rare moment of peace in over a week of hellish days.

"Did you know that I gave Prim her first joint?" Finnick said suddenly, and I sat up in surprise.

"That was you?" I practically shouted, ruining the quiet moment. I pointed at him as a revelation crashed into me. "I don't think I've ever been that high in my life, thanks to you."

He smiled and bit my finger. "Some things never change." I rolled my eyes, and a strange weight was lifted off my chest. For some reason, I had always suspected that Prim had gotten that joint from a much more questionable character, like someone from Seam Avenue.

Even though Prim had been the _bad influence_ more often than not, I always felt as if my very presence in her life was sullying her somehow, like my being attached to her had poisoned her. I shuddered to think that she had used one of my connections to initiate our drug habit. My connections had already been her ultimate downfall.

We're silent for a few moments as we passed the joint back and forth.

"So, what's wrong?" he asked finally. "Peeta had an even higher level of angst in his voice than normal, and you look like you just crawled out of yesterday's dumpster."

"Thanks," I said in a dry tone. He waited.

"We got into a fight. A bad one. He was pretty brutal," I admitted, trailing my fingers through the grass with my free hand and taking a hit from the joint with the other.

Finnick whistled lowly, his green eyes widening. "Didn't know the old boy had it in him."

I laughed without humor, exhaling a mouthful of smoke. "Oh, you have no idea."

"Was it about Prim?" he asked hesitatingly. It was a loaded question.

"Yes and no." He looked at me steadily, taking the joint from my extended fingers.

"It was about that night," I said reluctantly. He nodded, sighing out an _ah_ noise. We grew quiet again. I didn't mind. It just felt good to be silent for a while.

"I saw Gale today," Finnick said, the weed making his lips looser than normal. I could tell that he immediately wanted to take back his words.

I froze.

"What? Where?" I choked out.

"Where else? Seam Avenue. I was trying to buy more pot. You know, to stock up," he said. "It's easier to do it here than back in DC, believe it or not."

"I'm sure that went over like a house on fire," I managed to say.

"Yeah, he wasn't too pleased to see me," he said ruefully. "The feeling was mostly mutual. I kind of got sent packing."

I tried not to feel too guilty over that. He and Finnick had been friends at one point.

"So, you didn't see Rory, then?" I asked with forced nonchalance. He shot me a look.

"Seriously? I want nothing to do with that little bastard," he said in disgust, shaking his head. Never mind that "little bastard" was at least 6'3, shorter than his brother but not by much.

I raised my eyebrow at Finnick, as if to say _then who_? "Oh. No, I went to Leevy's a little later. She's got good stuff," he elaborated, nodding at the roach in his hand before stubbing it out and slipping it back into his pocket.

"Oh, okay." I filed that information away for later.

"He was at the funeral, you know," Finnick added, looking at me sideways. "Gale, I mean."

"He was?"

"Yeah. I thought you saw him when you had your meltdown," he said, poking me in the side. I let out a yelp and twisted away. "I guess I kind of thought that was part of why you freaked out," he admitted.

"No, I had a meltdown for completely unrelated reasons," I said truthfully, rubbing my side and looking at him suspiciously as he wiggled his fingers at me. "I don't know why he would come, though. Pretty fucking nervy."

Finn nodded slowly but didn't comment further.

We lay back on the grass together and stared at the clouds.

"Can I say something without you getting mad?" he asked suddenly.

"Can I stop you?"

"I'm trying to be serious here."

"O-kay," I said, sitting up on an elbow to look at him curiously. He pushed me back down. "It's better if you don't look at me," he joked.

"I'm listening."

"Have you ever thought about just…walking away?"

I turned my head, my cheek pressed against the grass as I looked at him. "From Peeta?"

"Yeah, I mean—the whole family, really," he said. "It hasn't been a healthy place for you in a long time, has it?"

"I don't know," I said slowly, a swirl of emotions welling inside of me. "I mean, we've been okay lately."

"Have you, though?" he asked seriously, his eyes locked on the sky. "Because it doesn't seem that way to me, even before Prim died."

I sat up suddenly and hugged my knees. "Things are complicated, Finn. But, that doesn't mean you run away from the people you love." I felt a stab of guilty panic when I realized that was _exactly_ what I had done earlier when Peeta and I had fought.

"But at what cost?" he argued, sitting up as well. "Prim and Peeta…their love has been destroying you for a long time."

"What does _that _mean?" I asked, inhaling sharply. Dragging Prim into this was a low blow.

"I've been there the whole time, Katniss," he reminded me. "I may not know everything, but I've seen the sacrifices you've made over the years to be their beck and call girl," he added, accenting the _call girl_.

I recoiled as if I was slapped. I certainly felt like it.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said hastily, taking a breath. "I didn't mean for this to make you angry, or to upset you. I just care about you, a lot, and I feel like maybe everything that's happened has lead up to this point. Like maybe these things happened to set you _free_."

"What if I don't want to be free?" I whispered, staring at the reflection pond. These chains were all I knew. Sure, I was furious and hurt this morning when I walked away, but in the back of my mind I knew I would be back. Everyone knew I would be back—even Talia, who couldn't stand me, had pretty much laughed in my face when I expressed doubts about my future with Peeta.

It terrified me to hear Finnick say these things. I had an undeniable, full force desire to call Peeta, to run back home to him and beg for forgiveness. What the hell was I thinking? I couldn't live without him; I couldn't go a full fucking _day_ without him, and hearing someone else advise me to make a run for it only reinforced the fact.

We had hurt each other deeply over the past year, been through hell and back, but that didn't negate how he had stood by my side for half of our lives. All of things that made him _Peeta_, that made me care for him so deeply, were still valid and true. Christ, I wouldn't even be _alive_ if it wasn't for him.

_It has been three weeks since my daddy died in a trucking accident. I have barely eaten in over half that long. Our house phone has rang and rang and rang but Mom hasn't bothered to answer, and neither have I. I couldn't._

_Mom was too heartbroken, too devastated._

_I was too sick._

_My immune system was compromised, they would later tell me, probably due to the shock and grief of losing my father so suddenly. That's how the virus took hold so fast and furiously, and left unchecked, it became a deadly inferno in a girl so young and small._

_But at the moment, all I knew was that I had been lying in the small, single bed in my shoebox room for a long, long time, plagued by nightmares of burning trucks and giant woodland creatures gnawing at my stomach, feverish and unable to move or even cry out in pain without growing weaker. I had tried to call out for help in the beginning, but either Mom couldn't hear me, or wouldn't. _

_I found myself dreaming and wishing for Peeta, or Prim, but they had left for a summer trip to Europe with their parents two weeks ago, even though they had cried and begged to stay with me when my mother had refused to let me go with them._

_Sometimes they show up in my nightmares; instead of my father in the burning truck, it's Peeta. Or, instead of me being eaten alive by giant squirrels, it's Prim, while I stand off in the distance screaming silently._

_My lips are impossibly cracked and painful when I wake up, and my limbs are so heavy that it feels as if they have been dipped in lead. Every time I pull myself towards the bathroom to relieve myself or attempt to drink a handful of water, I feel the slow hands of death curling around my throat._

_I calmly come to the conclusion that I am going to die with my mom in the next room. _

_My feverish thoughts become my only companion. _

No one cares about me. Where are my friends? I'm so hot. I'm so cold_. _My lips hurt. I'm burning.

_I pass out again._

_The next time I wake up, I hear a familiar, gruff voice far off in the distance. I wonder if it's a dream or another nightmare. I wait for burning trucks. _

"_Jesus fucking Christ, Layla," Mr. Abernathy says, sounding as if he is underwater. "What have you done?"_

"_I…I don't know. I didn't realize," my mother stammers._

_I feel my body, suddenly weightless, being pulled upwards by some gravitational force before being pressed against a solid surface. Someone's chest, maybe. I don't open my eyes to see, because I can't._

"_You're a goddamn nurse," he says in disgust, but then quickly lowers his voice at the sound of my whimper. Even my ears hurt. 'You think her daddy would have wanted this for you? Or for his little girl?"_

_My mother moans._

"_Couldn't even answer your goddamn phone," he growls. "I'm taking her with me. She needs help, and obviously you can't give it to her. You're lucky if the Mellarks don't call social services, Layla. If the twins hadn't made me come here to check on her…" his voice trails off._

_I hear my mother's sobs, but I am numb. I am immune. I am floating in a haze of pain and aches and a terrible thirst._

"_Sweetheart. Can you hear me?"_

_I loll my head in an attempt at a nod._

"_Gonna take you with me," Mr. Abernathy says. "Just hold tight."_

"_Peeta," I mutter, and the next time I open my eyes, he's lying beside me as if by magic, his eyes wide and scared. I think he says my name, but I surrender to the blackness before I can respond._

_When I wake up, I'm better enough to realize that I'm in Prim's bed, an IV hooked up to my arm and both twins sleeping on either side of me._

_I give a dry little cough and Peeta's eyes pop open, as if he was never asleep at all._

"_Katniss," he says, more relief and fear in a twelve year olds voice than there ever should be._

_Then he kisses my sweaty forehead._

"_I'll get you sick," I croak out in protest. He shakes his head. "I don't care." My eyes flutter shut again, but not before I hear his murmured plea. "Don't die, Katniss."_

_The next time I wake up, it is for good. I was apparently out of it for almost two days. The twins were so shocked and terrified when they heard about my condition that Talia had to arrange for their private physician to treat me at the Manor._

_Peeta and Prim had allowed for the bare minimum time for me to be no longer contagious before holding vigil by my side, their parents unable to cajole them away from me. _

_They stay faithfully with me, even as I recover over the next couple weeks or so. I had been so severely dehydrated and deprived of nutrients that the IV stays in longer than I like. I can barely speak, my throat is so sore and ravaged due to both the virus and the screaming that I had apparently been doing in my sleep. I am forced into silence in order to rest my vocal chords. _

_Prim plays card games with me to pass the time, while Peeta attempts to show me the fine art of sketching. I suck at both of the activities. I am so depressed and weak and sick of being cooped up inside that I snap at both of them constantly. They take it like champs. _

_My mother never calls or visits._

_I'm dozing in Prim's bed when I feel a gentle but insistent hand on my shoulder._

"_Katniss," Peeta whispers, smoothing the hair back from my face. "Katniss, wake up."_

"_Why?" I ask groggily, my throat finally healed enough to speak somewhat comfortably._

"_We're going to dinner, as a family," Peeta says, helping me stand._

"_Don't have a family," I say. He squeezes me._

_Somehow I make it downstairs with Peeta's help, Prim and their parents already waiting in the town car. At dinner, even Talia is surprisingly nice to me. We sit through a full course meal at Crestview that has obviously been tailored to meet my dietary needs. When it's over, and Talia, the Senator and Prim are being engaged in conversation by a family that has a daughter in ballet class with Prim, Peeta pulls me up by the hand. Prim looks at us from across the table, suspicious at our abandonment, but Peeta just mouths that we'll be back._

_I shuffle slowly along beside him, not sure where we're going. I follow him through the dining hall and then into the fragrant garden outside. I'm happy to be outside. We walk past the croquet course and into a trail area that we sometimes rode horses through before the new equestrian center had been built a few months ago_

_I soon grow exhausted by the walk, and I shake my head. "Can't," I say. Before I can stop him, my world goes horizontal as he scoops me up. He's not very big, but I am very small. I'm too tired to argue._

_He takes me through the winding, abandoned trails that are already starting to have that disused and off-beaten look, stopping when we emerge in front of one of the clearest, prettiest ponds that I've ever seen._

_He lowers me to the ground, and then drops to sit behind me, propping my body against his chest. We don't say anything for a long time._

"_Found this place for you," he says quietly, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder. "You needed something beautiful and quiet and wild, like you."_

_Tears fill my eyes. _

"_I don't have anyone, Peeta. My mom doesn't take care of me. My daddy is dead. I'm all alone," I say in a small voice, confessing the things that had been haunting me._

_**I W.I.L.L. T.A.K.E. C.A.R.E. O.F. Y.O.U.**__ he traces on my arm. _

_I turn my head and kiss him suddenly, my neck twisting awkwardly to reach where he is resting on my shoulder. His lips are hot, and taste like the crème __brûlée__ from dinner. When his mouth drops open in shock, I slip in my tongue. This isn't our first kiss, but I want it to be the best. _

_He pulls back in surprise, but then leans forward to capture my lips again._

_I sleep in his bed that night. _

I shook my head, and stood up suddenly. Finnick looked up at me in alarm.

"I've got to go, Finn," I said, looking around for my shoes that I had tossed aside earlier.

"Are we okay, though?" he asked anxiously, standing up with me.

"Yeah, of course," I said gently, kissing him on the cheek. "I appreciate everything you said, and I hear you. I do," I stopped to take a deep breath. "I just…I love him."

I'm surprised at how easy it was to say that. How natural it felt coming out of my mouth, when I could barely say it to Peeta after all this time without adding in a curse word for a barrier. "And, I loved Prim. So, so much. The things we said, the things we did—it doesn't even matter now," I laughed shakily. "Not to me. And…I just love him. I owe him a story, an explanation. Maybe then we can be whatever it is we used to be. What we're supposed to be."

He just looked at me sadly, understanding in his sea glass eyes.

"Pretty fucked up, huh?" I asked him.

Finnick shook his head. "It's your love story, Katniss," he said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "No one can write it but you."

We split up then. I was deeply appreciative when Finnick kindly gave me a joint from his back-up supply— possibly out of guilt for sending me into a tailspin with his unsolicited advice. He said that he was leaving town that night, but he would see me soon in a few weeks when Thanksgiving rolled around.

I slipped on my heels reluctantly as I entered the garden patio doors, and I almost slammed face first into a familiar, broad chest.

"Woah, Kat!" Cato Baxter exclaimed, steadying me by the shoulders with his giant fists. He was flanked by almost the whole crew- Madge, Marvel, Delly and Glimmer staring at me as if I was an apparition. "Where's Peeta?" he asked, peering behind me as if he would appear.

"Uh, at home," I said, looking around for an escape. Now that I was back around civilization, my high was especially apparent. I slipped the sunglasses that had been resting on top of my head back over my eyes. "Was school cancelled today or something?" I asked.

Madge looked at me in concern while Delly just smirked. Glimmer looked everywhere but my face.

"Katniss…it's like five o'clock," Madge said slowly. "School's over?"

"Oh, yeah," I said dumbly. "Oh, wait. Fuck. It's five?" I demanded. I had totally forgotten that I was supposed to go to Freeman's to pick up Prim's "things" for Talia. Jesus, all I wanted to do was go home to Peeta. Now I was going to have to break every speeding record known to man to _maybe_ make it in time to fulfill this really depressing errand for Talia Mellark.

"Yes?" Delly answered as if I were insane, looking me up and down.

Damn. "Gotta go," I muttered, brushing past them.

"Wait!" Cato called back to me, and I paused impatiently. "Yes?"

Madge nudged Glimmer none-too-gently, and I was intrigued despite myself.

"I'm having a Halloween party next weekend," Glimmer said hesitantly, running a hand through her perfect blonde hair in a nervous gesture. "You should come. And Peeta," she added almost inaudibly.

I resisted the urge to smack his name out of her mouth. It literally took all of my self-control not to pounce on her and exact revenge Seam-style, but starting today, I was making a vow to let go of all the anger and betrayal I had been carrying around with me since last summer.

I was no angel; Peeta had hurt me because _I_ hurt him first. It may not be right, but regardless, there it was. How could I expect him to forgive and forget my transgressions if I wasn't willing to do the same?

"Maybe," I said dismissively. Just because I was letting go didn't mean I was going to be _nice_.

"Hell yeah!" Cato pumped his fist. "You _never_ hang out with us anymore."

I nodded awkwardly, anxious to get going now that I was in a race against time. "Well, see you guys," I said, turning to walk away without fanfare.

I almost felt guilty about my abrupt departure until I heard Delly make a comment about what a snobby bitch I was, Madge's scolding response fading away the further I walked down the hall. I wasn't angry, though; just amused. Delly Cartwright was as insignificant to me as a potato skin at that point.

When I'm finally back in the Porsche and zooming down Gardenia Street, I noticed a familiar white cord trailing from the stereo system USB port into the closed glove compartment.

"No fucking way," I whispered. I reached over to pop the glove compartment open, and there it is.

Prim's cell phone, almost halfway charged after a day of driving.

I wondered briefly how it's presence had gone unnoticed, but then again no one was thinking about something as inconsequential as her cell phone when Prim was found. And no one but me has been in the car since.

It's not surprising that nobody wanted this car.

I burst into tears before I could stop myself. And it wasn't just a few random droplets—it was full-out, soul shattering sobs, the kind that I couldn't bring myself to shed before the minor breakdown in the limousine yesterday. I was crying so hard that I could barely see straight, and I only became aware that I was driving like a lunatic when it's too late.

I saw the blue lights through swollen, blurry eyes and cursed under my breath. _Goddammit,_ this was the perfect ending to a shitty day. I sighed and pulled over on the side of the road, already mentally preparing myself to play up my tear stained face, or, if I absolutely had to— name drop my way out of a ticket.

I cocked my head slightly at my rearview mirror in order to get a better look at who was in the cruiser behind me, and then froze. The tall, built form unfolding from the car, walking my way with a gait I was all too familiar with, made my heart leap to my throat.

It would be one of the only police officers _not _on the Mellark pay roll.

Gale Hawthorne.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Happy Labor Day!

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